


Vanderwood's Bakery - Now Open!

by Lokiiwood



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Awkward Flirting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Slow Burn, fem!reader - Freeform, innuendos, mentions of MC - Freeform, mentions of Saeran, mentions of Seven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-06-09 22:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19485007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokiiwood/pseuds/Lokiiwood
Summary: ✧anon7812✧ 5/5Found this cute little bakery last month and I've been back every week! The bread is really tasty and the owner is really handsome and spoke perfect English! :) Can't wait to come back on my next trip to Korea!✧Bread Connisewer✧ 2/5the owner was so rude!!! i asked what was in the zucchini bread and they got the owner. and he said it was LITERAL zucchini?? who does that?? idc that was it was good, he should've answered my questions but he just walked back to the kitchen like he doesn't even fear god! NEVER coming back!✧김하나들셋✧ 5/5I love this bakery... The bread is handmade and always fresh. It's amazing and healthy. Because of this bakery I can enjoy food while still on my diet...amazing. Thank you Mr. Vanderwood ㅠㄱㅠ✧꽃꽃꽃!✧ 5/5I'm only here for the owner, but the bread is good too. Everyone calls Mr. Vanderwood the 'Idol Baker!'✧anon1193✧ 5/5I used to love coming 2 this bakery with my girlfriend but once he just kicked us out nearclosing time while we were eating our cheesecake...?? not sure what his problem wass. felt a bit threatened. If he does it again I'm removing stars. Otherwise, its' been great.





	1. Now Closed / Fortune Cookie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vandershrine](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Vandershrine).



> It's meeeee. Still technically on hiatus but I've had this Baker!Vandy AU for so long that it's time to just release it to the world. A special thank you to the Vandershrine, the people who originally made this AU with me in 2018. We worked together to pool together ideas and I wrote it out! It was a fun group activity that we dearly loved while the server was still active and it still brings a smile to my face to continue working on it. I love you all and I hope you, reader, also enjoy this super cheesy and soft story!
> 
> Thank you!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood and his most troublesome customer get stuck in the rain.

_Accept it, she isn’t coming._

Of course you weren’t. It was long past time for you to show up, and it was raining like hell. Not even _you_ would come this late in _this_ weather for some damn pastries. The broom that had swept the same spot for the past six minutes finally slowed to a halt. Completely alone, he could hear himself exhale so clearly. He hadn’t even taken off the flour-ridden store apron or finally set free his hair set high in its loose ponytail. The wait finally ended as the broom was placed back in the utility closet and the hair tie dangled on his wrist.

Vanderwood checked the clock high on the wall once more, just in time to see the hand tick to 7:15. The shop was already closed down—the floors were swept, goods neatly packed away, new dough ready to be kneaded for the morning rush. Everything was in place and like normal...except for you.

The woman who always arrived at 6:55, five minutes before closing, hadn’t come. Reluctantly, he picked up the small, paper bag of your usual he always set aside. There was no point in letting it go to waste, he could just take it home and eat it himself. Vanderwood wasn’t big on things with too much sugar, but the glazed items were your favorite. It was fine, he could stomach it. Plus, today he had added two extra croissants.

The sound of him locking the front door was deafening, seeming to echo over the eerily pristine floors of the dimly lit shop. Had it always been that loud? He wasn’t sure and briefly tried to remember audio’s psychological connection. An unpleasant memory involving headphones, dog whistles, and blood floated in and out of the back of his mind.

Whatever. Stuff like that wasn’t important to know anymore. Vanderwood grabbed his coat off the counter and sighed, headed for the side door where the final task of the night remained--inputting the security code and turning the dim lights completely off.

_Tap. Tap._

Vanderwood froze. What the hell? The hand reaching for the door was now reaching for his hidden gun as he turned to face the entrance of his bakery. Even in the obscurity of the rain, he could recognize the form. He nearly stumbled forward as he threw his coat back on the counter along with the bag of goods before running to the front. A shaky hand fumbled with the lock for an agonizing few seconds before the doors flew open.

“Vanderwood!”

His name from your lips caused an involuntary jump in his chest and his arms acted on their own. They shoved you inside, quickly locking the doors back even as they fought the wind.

“You…”

He paused when he turned to see you, unsure what he had wanted to say now that you were here in the flesh, soaking wet and looking up at him with bright, surprised eyes.

“You’re...wet,” he decided on, letting the disgust in his voice disguise his concern. Your eyebrows furrowed but he shook his head to cut you off. “Nope, no, just stay there. I don’t want you tracking water on my clean floor.”

  
Vanderwood rushed to pick up his coat and approached you before hesitating. Was this really okay? Quickly, he draped it over your shoulders before he could make it awkward and returned to the counter. He flipped up the entrance and shoved open the kitchen door, glancing around for what he wanted. Vanderwood opened his supply closet and grabbed the first towel he saw. Well, would one really be fine? Just in case, he grabbed two. You were pretty wet, after all. Did you really run here in this weather? You could catch a cold!

Irritated, he returned to see you had obeyed his instructions and shuffled to stand completely on the welcome mat.

  
“Vanderwood?”

He hummed a vague acknowledgment, handing you a towel to wipe yourself off with.

“Thank you,” you sighed, flashing him a small smile as you accepted the fabric and began wiping off your legs. His arm twitched but fell back to his side. No, he wouldn’t help wipe you down, that would require touching you, and touching you would be...inappropriate. You were a customer. He cursed in his head, why did he even consider something so stupid? He was getting far too comfortable.

“I, um, didn’t know it was going to rain,” you stuttered, glancing up at him as you continued wiping down.

“No one did, it wasn’t in the forecast,” he mumbled, hovering near you with the second towel in case you needed him–well, the _towel_ , not him.

“So I didn’t bring an umbrella,” you sighed, the regret clear in your voice.

“I can see that,” he chuckled.

Another apologetic smile from you made his laugh disappear.

“So, um, I know I’m...later than usual. B-but I still came because I needed to tell you I’ll be working late all next week and not to wait up for me.”

“You risked pneumonia so you could tell me not to wait for you? Seriously?” He shook his head and held out his hand.

“Give me your phone.”

“W-what? Why?”

“Just give it to me.”

You reluctantly dug in your purse for the object and held it out in your palm towards him. With a disgruntled sigh, he took it and typed in the first of his phone number. He paused and stared at it, the sudden awareness of what he was doing flooding his senses. He was giving someone his phone number. He was giving _you_ his phone number. Oh. Why on Earth was he doing that? He was giving someone besides Seven and his idiotic friends the ability to contact him? He was giving himself the ability to contact _you_?

What if you got the wrong idea? A shaky finger mistyped the next number and he cursed to himself, hitting the back button a few times to get it correct. Vanderwood couldn’t bring himself to look up at you. Surely you understood what he was doing? He took a deep breath and handed it back, still not looking at you directly.

“T-that’s my number. Next time just text me instead of risking your health over a few damn pastries.”

You blinked at him before returning your gaze to the phone. “O-oh, thank you...alright!”

He nodded and waited as you clicked something on the device before shooting him a smile, your voice awkwardly wavering in its excitement, which he nor his fluttering heart could really understand. “I just t-texted you so you have my number, too.”

“Um, okay.”

He didn’t hear the notification and dug his own out of his pocket. His phone was always on silent at work and he hardly messaged people enough to care. But sure enough, there was the message from an unknown number:

“Hey, Vandy! It’s me! Thank you!”

Vandy? Your posture had changed, he noted, as you spoke up again, the towel pushing into your face to hide it. Had he made you uncomfortable? Well, you weren’t the only one.

“Um, s-so, is this for...baked good emergencies only? Or…” The towel fell away to your neck and you averted your gaze, a finger tapping at the phone screen. Well, he certainly didn’t need you thinking he had ulterior motives if that was your concern.

“Emergencies only,” he confirmed. “Consider it top secret, so don’t go giving it to anyone else, alright?”

He couldn’t tell what emotion passed over your features, at first it seemed to be disappointment, then confusion, then an amused smile. “Okay, well, um, I’ll just pay for the bread and go, Mr. Agent.”

Agent? That was concerning. He nodded, but the banging on the door reminded him of what exactly you intended to go into. “What? No, it’s terrible out there. I’m not sending you home like this.”

“It’s a few blocks from here, but I’ll be alright,” you laughed, the towel now blotting at your chest.

“Absolutely not,” he scoffed. “Are you insane? It may as well be a tsunami out there, the owners of the other shops on this street have already confirmed they’re not opening tomorrow if the weather doesn’t clear.”

The blotting slowed down as you considered his statement, and he suppressed the urge to reach out and move the single piece of scraggly, damp hair that was curling strangely at the top of your head.

“Well, I hope it isn’t over the line but I was actually hoping I could...borrow an umbrella? I know you have a lost-and-found in the back and maybe...there was an extra?”

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to remember all that was in there at the moment. Yeah, there were at least two umbrellas, and of course, he had his own. But he shook his head all the same. “Those tiny, half-broken things aren’t going to save you from pneumonia. And that tiny blazer you have on isn’t even an actual jacket. My answer is no.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Vanderwood, I promise you it’s not a big deal! Weren’t you just about to leave in this rain yourself?”

“Yeah, but I was going to be fine.”

You gave him a faux-angry shake of your head and inquisitive eyebrow, ruffling the towel in your hair now.

“I’m serious, I can’t send you home like this. Obviously, I can’t force you to stay, but I highly suggest it if you don’t want me removing the cheesecake cookies off the menu.”

Your eyes went wide and he suppressed a grin at your reaction. “You wouldn’t _dare_!”

“I don’t joke,” he hummed, giving a casual shrug.

You puffed out your cheeks and rotated to peer out the door at the rain. After a few moments, you turned back to him.

“I...feel bad, it’s already after closing, you probably haven’t had dinner. Is this really alright?”

Vanderwood’s answer came instantly, the certainty behind it awing him. “It’s fine.”

“Wipe off your feet and let’s sit at the counter.”

He didn’t wait for a response, tossing you the second towel and making his way to the table nearest the counter. The chairs rested upside-down on the tops, and he took one in each arm, plopping them down by the counter.

_I’m really doing this, huh?_

He had just told himself he was getting a little too comfortable, but here he was, draping his jacket over your shoulders and demanding you stay in the shop after-hours to not catch a cold or worse. Vanderwood hadn’t thought this far ahead. What were they supposed to do now, just sit and...talk? Eat? Shit, he had never spoken with you for over 10 minutes at a time, but his decision implied a time period far longer than that. Hours, even, were a potential. Holy shit. What if the rain never cleared? It was Friday so you didn’t have work the next day but you couldn’t just stay here–certainly not _sleep_ here. Anxious, he quickly ran through his mind for ways to pass the time that didn’t involve any talking about himself. That would be the worst-case scenario.

He felt you behind him and moved out of the way, pulling back the chair and indicating that you sit in it. You carefully sat down and he pushed it in as if the counter were a proper table and this was a proper restaurant. He plopped down in the seat next to you and quickly brought out his phone from his pocket, trying to ignore the delighted expression you were giving him.

“So, I’m going to order takeout. What do you like to eat?”

He didn’t dare look up, thumbing through his phone to appear as withdrawn and nonchalant as possible.

“Delivery? You’d make someone else go through the rain and not us?” you laughed.

He shrugged. “They’re not us, I don’t care about them.”

You laughed again. “That’s so terrible!”

“I never said I was a good guy,” he replied, glancing up at your grin and immediately regretting it. You were...kind of cute? Shit. Shit. This wasn’t a date, you were just a customer. A little more friendly than the others, but a customer all the same. He returned his attention to the phone, focusing as much as he could on the logos of nearby delivery places since he was too distracted to make out words anymore.

“I’ll pay you back, so whatever is fine with me, Mr. ‘Not A Good Guy,’” you giggled.

He nodded, already knowing he wasn’t going to accept your money. One particular logo caught his eye and he considered the option. This particular Chinese food had a lot of sweet versions and those fortune cookies, so maybe you’d like that. “How do you feel about Chinese food?” he asked, clicking the logo and scrolling down the menu.

“Oh that sounds amazing, I’d love to eat a fortune cookie right now.”

_Bingo._ His thumb hovered the call button and he mustered the courage to meet your gaze again.

“Alright, anything in particular you want?”

Your nose scrunched in thought, but you eventually just shook your head. “Whatever you order is fine, really. Maybe no mushrooms if anything has those?”

“Then I’ll just order a variety, and we can share.”

You gave him a thumbs up and he dialed the line, holding the phone up to his ear as he waited for someone to pick up. The person on the other side sounded a bit annoyed, but he didn’t take it to heart as they confirmed his order and let him know that because of the weather and influx of orders, they probably wouldn’t arrive for a least an hour.

He hung up the phone and saw a new message from Seven, the only thing typed a single:

“?”

Wow, was he even now checking the state of his security system to see it still hadn’t been activated this late? Whatever, he’d make sure to tell him in a bit that he was late today.

“You speak Chinese?” you asked.

“My Mandarin is better than my Cantonese,” he mumbled, closing the other tabs on his phone. He should probably get his laptop for a bigger screen if he was going to sit around here.

“W-wow! How many languages do you speak?”

“Hm?”

“How many?” you laughed.

Oh. He should probably lie about that, not that he knew for sure anymore. He didn’t use his other languages much after the Agency. Consequently, they were beginning to fade.

“One. I studied a little of others, but I’m not fluent.” There, that should satisfy you.

“You sounded pretty good to me, that’s amazing,” you whistled, beginning to sway your legs. Distracting.

He didn’t respond and the store grew still, an uncomfortable silence beginning to form, just barely louder than the rain outside. He sighed. He needed to fix this, he had asked for this after all. If you got bored enough you might even decide to brave the rain and who knows what would happen to you after that. God.

“Do you know how to bake?” he asked. He didn’t really know where he was going with this but at the very least it was a conversation topic he was intimately familiar with.

“Um, not really. I just use stuff like readymade cake mix or buy it,” you hummed. “Do you know h...nevermind.” You covered your face in your hands and he bit his tongue. You were definitely cute.

“It’s a conditioned reaction to respond with the same question, don’t worry about it.”

You didn’t look in his direction, probably still a little embarrassed, but you shrugged. “I guess. I always wanted to learn, though. Since I eat so many baked things.”

“I can teach you.”

Wait, shit. No, wait -

Your wide eyes were on him, shutting up even his thoughts. “Would you really? That’d be amazing! Just anything basic would be so...helpful.”

He blinked, trying to process it. This was not customer-territory. He had his shop assistants but he’d never really _baked_ with someone, certainly not to teach them, and certainly not for _fun_. But you were smiling at him, so appreciative as if he really were committed to helping you.

Then he’d have to be.

“Yeah, sure. I can teach you…” The thoughts fired off back-to-back, he couldn’t _possibly_ start a schedule with you, he hadn’t the time and offering to help you implied his services were for free. But most of all, a schedule would be like a...date. No, he had to end this as quickly as possible so you wouldn’t get the wrong idea. His small shop definitely didn’t need a scandal of some sort - ‘Man coerces woman to stay in his shop after-hours, orders her food, then proceeds to hit on her while she is trapped by a storm.’ Yeah, no.

“...now.”

Yeah, now was his best bet. They certainly had the time, the materials, and the space. Vanderwood stood up from his seat, already trying to decide what they should make as their first attempt. He flipped open the countertop, leaving it up and stepping in the employee-only area, squatting to read around the month’s schedule, a laminated paper hanging on tape below the register where the customers couldn’t see.

“Now? In your shop?” he heard you gasp, accompanied by the faint scrape of the chair.

“Mhmm,” he responded, the decision made and beginning to stand up. “It’ll be a good way to pass the time.”

“Um, yes, but-”

Oh. You had leaned over the counter to see what he was doing, which he only knew now because he almost hit his face into yours. You stared down at him and he paused his ascension. Wow, he could see your pores. He’d never been this close to you, if he kept going he could easily brush his nose against yours. Your lips were so close, he could…

You pulled away and he stood up fully, pausing before retreating to the kitchen. Well, that was over. Vanderwood tied up his hair again then began washing his hands in the industrial sink, mulling over everything he needed for an easy recipe. Only a few supplies and he could teach you to make the batter for cookies, something simple either of you would enjoy tasting, just like your lips.

Oh hell. It was _not_ over. Why would he want to kiss you? Oh, this was going to make everything awkward now. Did he actually want that? Since when, right then, just because you were so close? Was he so deprived of physical contact that a simple run-in would spike an urge like this? Ridiculous. Whatever, he would just have to be careful from now on.

“Vanderwood?” he heard you call. Why were you so far away?

“You can come in here, it’s alright. Just...don’t touch anything, we need to scrub our hands.”

He took a deep breath and made his way around the kitchen, placing pans, bowls, utensils on the main counter. He hated to dirty it again so soon but if he was stuck here it didn’t matter so much.

“Can I help? What should I do?”

He forced himself not to look over at you, pointing towards the small, employee sink that sat next to the industrial one. “Nothing yet, just scrub. Soap and water. 30 seconds. To your elbows.”

He heard you giggle and peeked over his shoulder, consequently dropping the bag of flour he’d just picked up. He cursed under his breath and bent down to inspect it. It had torn at the side, but not too many of the white grains had fallen out. It was salvageable if he was careful. He carefully maneuvered the bag on its side, torn-side up, and tried to get a good grip.

“Wait! I’ll help you!” he heard you cheer. He sighed but waited for you to bend down, flashing him a smile. Your hair was tied up high like his without him having to instruct you, which he appreciated, but nicer still was how bright your face seemed now.

“Um, so on the count of three?”

He felt his ears beginning to burn. Had he been staring? Vanderwood had just told himself to be careful from now on but he had already failed.

“Yes,” he said plainly, tearing his eyes away from you.

You counted to three and he heaved up his two corners. You both placed the bag gently on the counter and he exhaled, relieved he hadn’t wasted more flour.

“Good start, nice teamwork,” you laughed, looking at all the things on the large counter. “So what are we making?”

“Cookies,” he mumbled.

“Cookies? Oh, awesome!”

“Why are you so excited?” he scoffed, moving a bowl closer to the bag of flour.

You handed him a measuring cup and he tried not to flinch when he felt your hand graze his.

“Because I love cookies and I’m so happy I got stuck in a rainstorm to end up here, haha.”

He cleared his throat. “W-well, lucky you. First thing we should do is sift some of this flour.”

“Sift?”

He shook the measuring cup in his hand, gesturing what he believed was sifting. “You know, sifting…?”

You glanced between him and his hand, then gestured a shaking telephone.

“N-no,” he stammered. “Do you own a sifter?” You shook your head. “Colander?” Another shake. “Any kind of strainer?” You paused. Another shake. He groaned. “A whisk? Do you own a _whisk_?”

“Um, is that the one where…”

He walked away to a cabinet and grabbed the device, returning to press into your hands. “Congratulations, you now own a whisk.” You weighed it in your hands, was it really that foreign?

“I think I have one of these somewhere…”

“Keep it,” Vanderwood sighed.

“U-uh, keep it?” you repeated.

“Yes?”

“I can’t accept this gift, it’s from your bakery…”

He shrugged, scooping some of the flour into the bowl. “We have plenty of whisks. I’ll just pay for it myself.”

You bit your lip. He promptly looked away.

“Um, so,” he started, pushing the bowl towards you, “Just move the whisk in a circle. You do this to add air into the flour because it usually comes so packed...This way the cookies come out fluffy…”

He heard the familiar scrape of the whisk inside the bowl and tried to relax, glancing up at the clock to see time had somehow stood still. God, he was stuck with you.

“How’s this?” you asked.

“Fine,” he sighed, not bothering to look back.

“What? But you didn’t even look!”

Because he couldn’t look at you! Ugh. He turned to ‘look’ like you asked. It was just sifting!

You were an angel. An angel who had apparently never touched flour in your life, because some had puffed out onto your chest. How? _How?_

“Just...watch me,” he mumbled, gently plucking the whisk from your hand and doing it himself.

“Oh, that makes sense, sorry,” you laughed. You were so close to him, arm flat against his own as you looked down into the bowl. It would be a lie to deny it was making his heart race, but that didn’t make it easier to cope with. You weren’t doing it on purpose, so would it be rude if he just blatantly moved away? It would be rude, right? Well even if it was, so what? Right?

“Um, how long do we need to sift it?”

“I-it’s dumb! _Done_! I meant done!” End him now.

He used his blunder as an excuse to walk away, shaking his head. “We’re going to throw the ingredients in the bowl, mix it with our hands, then knead the dough.”

“Sounds like a mess.”

“Cooking is a constant state of cleaning.”

“You somehow made it sound philosophical,” you laughed.

A laugh like an angel. Whatever. He could make this work. Vanderwood walked around the kitchen, instructing you of what ingredients to add to the concoction, letting you add them while he cleaned up behind you. There was minimal touching between the two of you, minus the butter, which you were clearly not good at softening.

“This smells good already!” you hummed, so proud of your creation so far.

“It’s the vanilla. Let’s knead it.” Vanderwood glanced up at the clock again. It had passed nearly an hour, when was the food arriving? This baking preparation was making him hungry.

You carefully scraped the dough onto the parchment and began doing...something. It wasn’t kneading. “No, no,” Vanderwood chuckled. “Watch me, like this.”

He rolled his hands over the dough slower than usual, letting you observe it.

“Alright, you try,” he said, pulling away. You replaced him and tried again. It was better, but...not good enough.

“It’s just dough, you can’t hurt it, don’t be so gentle,” he murmured, reaching over. He hesitated for a moment, the fear of touching your skin prominent in his mind, but he exhaled and continued anyway, pressing down on the back of your hand to encourage you to be more forceful.

He pulled away and you were back to being terrible. “No, um, let’s…”

“No, no I can do it, I swear!”

Vanderwood puffed out air. He _could_ just let you try until you did it well enough for him, but...he couldn’t stand it. He bit his lip, acutely aware of what he was doing but simultaneously unable to help himself. He positioned himself behind you, the smell of your hair absolutely intoxicating, and let his hands reach over on top of yours. God, he hoped you couldn’t hear the thumping in his chest. His hands took shape to hold yours and he began guiding you through the kneading.

You said nothing, just felt extremely hot for some reason, but otherwise allowed him to continue, which put him at ease.

“T-this is better…” you said, barely audible for him.

Oh, could you not hear him from _his_ position? He moved his head to the side of yours, bending downwards so his lips were next to your ear.

“Yes, it is…” he murmured.

He felt like an oven, the body heat radiating from the both of you seemingly multiplying instead of adding. But...this felt nice. Too nice. Was he using this as an excuse to touch you so freely? He was so close.

Your ear.

Your lips.

Your cheek.

If you just turned, even a little, it could be like the counter ‘incident,’ except your lips would find his this time…

Shit, he wasn’t saying anything, he was making it awkward. He should pull away now, you were doing fine. But, no, just in case–he had to keep going, for the integrity of the cookies obviously.

“There, that’s it...just like that…”

Okay, so he wasn’t saying _anything_ actually constructive. Was he too obvious?

Your head started to turn.

He should back away.

_Please_.

Leave, Vanderwood.

_Just a little more._

Move, idiot!

A banging made you stop turning, and he felt a confused ball of disappointment and relief.

“I should get that,” he gulped.

“Y-yeah.”

He finally pulled away from you, the warmth of your hands and back disappearing in the mere seconds away. It was painful–damn awful. But he had to go get the food. He rushed out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel before making his way to the main door, unlocking it and letting the soaking man inside on the mat.

“A delivery for Vanderwood,” the man hissed, out of breath and out of patience.

“Yes, thank you,” he hummed, taking the large bag into his arms. The man nodded and took off, not bothering with pleasantries.

“Ah, that smells great!” he heard you chirp from behind him. “Oh, do you need help?”

“No, but you can lock the door for me,” he said, nodding his head towards the latch. “Just turn it left until it clicks.”

“Okay!” you laughed. Why were you such a ray of sunshine? Jeez, were you that hungry?

He returned to the seats you both left at the counter and set the bag down, taking out the different dishes one-by-one and hoping the man had actually brought everything. When the line was finished, he was satisfied. This sure was a lot to eat. You plopped down beside him, oohing over it all. You certainly liked food, he mused to himself. You were probably the type that liked cute restaurants and feeding your date samples of your dish, right?

He sighed. This was getting tiring, these weird imaginations. “Let’s dig in.”

The meal was quiet–on his end. You commented on everything you ate, you told him funny memories of going out to eat with friends, you asked him questions about himself that he expertly dodged, and you asked him questions about baking that he expertly answered.

“Oh, the fortune cookies!” you gasped, pulling them out from the bag. You handed him one and although he didn’t actually _want_ it, he accepted it from you anyway.

He broke it apart, grimacing at the crumbs that fell, and pulled the thin strip out to read. You read yours quietly, a little confused, and glanced over at his.

“What does yours say?”

_Your luck is within your reach. Go and grab it._

He snorted, trying to keep away strange thoughts of the ‘luck’ of your lips that had been within his ’reach’ twice now. Stupid. Stupid.

“Nothing. It’s stupid,” he decided on, glancing over at your intrigued eyes and falling down to your mouth. You returned your gaze to your own ‘fortune,’ and shrugged. “Yeah, mine too.”

You put one of the cookie halves in your mouth but kept staring at the strip.

He cleared his throat. Teaching you cookies was done, and although the rain wasn’t letting up, you were both getting far too comfortable. Vanderwood had to end this, at the very least to keep _himself_ away.

“Hey, MC…” he started, trying to find the words to say ‘Hey I know I’ve been friendly but I definitely don’t want to be friends.’ It was...true, but not in the way you’d take it. At this point he knew deep down he wanted more than that. And that was unacceptable.

“Yes?” you said, shooting him a smile.

His confidence fell to the floor. Shit.

“I-I wanted to, uh…”

He was stuttering like a teenager. Freaking ridiculous.

You turned away from him right as the banging returned. He sprung up, hand automatically reaching for his taser. “Get down,” he ordered. Please, no dead bodies on his floor–especially not yours.

“Huh?” you slowly got up from the seat, more afraid of him than the would-be intruder. It didn’t matter, overreacting had kept him alive so far.

The door slammed open before he could even reach halfway across the bakery.

“You better not have burned to death or something, Mary! I-”

Seven shut up upon seeing the chilling look upon his face. On instinct, his hands raised in surrender and Vanderwood’s posture relaxed, grip releasing his taser and his hand falling out of his pocket.

“Sev–Saeyoung, you’ve gotta be kidding me right now!”

His hands fell and he frowned. “You didn’t answer your phone!”

Oh. Right. He didn’t.

“So? It’s storming, I got busy,” he groaned, eyeing the ex-hacker’s feet that were a little too close to his floor.

But Seven’s eyes traveled past him to a certain someone, his frown quickly jumping up to a smile.

“O-oh! Um, hi…”

_Please don’t._

“Hi…” you answered shyly, giving him a small wave he then returned.

“What? Not going to introduce me, Vanderwood?”

He sighed. “MC, this is my idiot, uh...roommate, Saeyoung.”

Seven’s eyes went wide and he sprung across the floor to his side.

“No! My floor...my clean floor…” Vanderwood groaned, eyes glued to the messy trail of rainwater. Seven didn’t even _try_ to wipe his shoes!

“MC? _The_ MC?” he laughed, gently elbowing his arm. “Wow you were right, she _is_ really cute!” Seven shot him a wink and fake whispered, loud enough for anyone within a yard to hear. “Good job!”

Sigh.

Vanderwood had no choice. He had to kill Seven.

He reached for his taser again and Seven scooted off back the way he came, but not exactly since he made an _entirely new, not overlapping trail of wet shoe prints_!

“Nice to...meet you?” you tried, so clearly confused and probably embarrassed.

“Alrightgottagonicetomeetyoubyeee!” he whistled, opening the door back to the rain. “Invite me to the wedding!” And was gone.

Oh yeah. He was dead. He probably knew it too, better go tighten that house security. But he had time for that later. Vanderwood sighed, scratching his head and turning back to you to formally apologize.

“Um, sorry about him, he’s kind of an idiot…”

He hoped you wouldn’t be too uncomfortable, but you...laughed. Vanderwood felt his cheeks burning as if Seven making it clear he’d mentioned you–out of context, obviously–wasn’t bad enough.

You kept laughing, slowing down enough to blab out an “I-it’s alright but, erm, what did...what did he mean by ‘the MC?’”

Of _course_ you wouldn’t let it go. Whatever, he could tell the truth, it didn’t matter. God, please don’t get the wrong idea.

“Oh, um, nothing. I-it’s just that - I - _he'd_ been wondering why I was coming home later lately. I told him I had a late customer…”

Please, please don’t get the wrong idea. It’s not like he brought you up often! You were just a customer he saw frequently!

You seemed a bit disappointed by his answer, looking away with a hum of acknowledgment before biting your lip and turning back to him.

“Oh, so, uhhh...is what he said true?” You did a nervous gesture, a finger sliding hair behind your ear and shooting him the tiny hint of a smile. “Y-you think I'm cute?”

Honesty. He was all about honesty. He was definitely willing to be honest.

Vanderwood shrugged. “Attractiveness is subjective, it’s not really important what I think.”

See? Honest.

Disappointed again. Did you _want_ him to find you cute or something? That was unlikely, perhaps you were insulted? Maybe you thought he found you ugly? He didn’t want to offend you. Ugh. Suck it up, Vanderwood. Who cares if you knew!

“B-but I do personally find you cute...I guess.”

Casual. Perfect.

“O-oh? Thank you...I’ve always found you really cute, too!”

What.

His brain stopped working. You thought he was...cute? Well, he was generally attractive, that’s why he did undercover missions in his younger years. So why did this shock him? Why would he even care? He couldn’t process it, so deflected.

“Thanks. Let’s go finish those cookies.”

Vanderwood absolutely could _not_ do this again, and he was thankful you would be gone for a week; he certainly needed the break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @Lokiiwood
> 
> If you liked this, please leave a comment :)


	2. Boyfriend Deliveries / Zucchini-Banana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood fixes a problem by creating another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this chapter once again to the Vandershrine, who suggested or inspired names for the office workers, who were lovingly all placeholders up until posting time. Rest in peace my beloved placeholders of VANDERTHIRST, VANDERTITS, VANDERBREAD, VANDERBUTT, and VANDERLIPS.

“You’ll get together with the one you love soon.”

That’s what your fortune cookie had said. You didn’t _love_ anyone so it was a bit disappointing. Just a dumb fortune that made your heart race because your favorite baker had the cutest snort laugh and looked like he had glanced at your lips after reading his own fortune. It certainly wasn’t a reaction a friend would have, not that you two were friends. Vanderwood was confusing for sure. One moment he was touching you delicately, getting closer and closer and driving you absolutely crazy, then the next he was dashing away as if your skin disgusted him.

And he hadn’t messaged you at all. His phone number was just for emergencies and a secret - whatever that meant. You thought he was joking, but ever since he walked you home and made sure you were safe, it was silent. God, but it’d only been a few days! You weren’t _desperate_...well, _that_ desperate.

You liked Vanderwood, you knew that for a while. He had beautiful brown eyes that felt like they had seen the world, but he never looked down when he spoke to you. His words were charmingly blunt but always kind. Who else knew such a quick-witted baker with such a hilariously dry sense of humor? He treated you like he cared for you, waiting when he didn’t have to, but maybe you were kidding yourself - he ran a business and you were a loyal customer.

You sighed. Those events were Friday and now it was Monday. The weekends were always rough, of course, since the bakery wasn’t open, but now you had nothing to look forward to after work. No Vanderwood, no baked goods waiting for you. Tragic. Just long hours because of a mistake from a department that wasn’t yours.

“Hey MC, delivery,” Castiel called, his usual jaded voice seeming to drag itself over into your cubicle. You didn’t remember having anything delivered but it was lunchtime and you were too annoyed to go pick it up yourself. Would it be rude to have them come to your desk? Maybe, but you didn’t care enough to stop yourself from ringing up the front desk and telling Julee to allow them in.

It was a mistake.

“Hey.”

Vanderwood? Vanderwood, the elusive baker with strictly business intentions, was delivering something to you? He placed the familiar paper bag of baked goods on your desk and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, a neutral expression on his face.

“What? Um...I - Vanderwood?”

You didn’t even remember telling him where you worked! But he…

“You said you weren’t coming tonight so I brought it to you instead,” he explained quietly.

“Oh my god...thank you, I...I didn’t know how I was going to survive without this! Hold on, my wallet is in my desk, I can -”

“It’s fine. I’m just repaying you for Friday, for making you stay. This is an apology, it’s on the house.”

You stared at him. He taught you how to make cookies, bought you dinner, walked you home, and now he was _apologizing_ and giving you free food? He was out of his mind - that or continuing to be the kindest man you’d ever encountered. Both? Yeah, why limit him.

“You didn’t have…” _But he did be grateful_. You were touched, a little horrified about how attractive he looked outside the bakery in casual clothes, but still very touched. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Bye.”

Your hand reached out for him but he didn’t even look back as he left your cubicle and returned the way he came out of the office. The wayward hand moved to the bag instead and you opened it up to release a wave of pleasant aroma--one you knew very well. These were hot and freshly baked. Oh god, you were nearly drooling.

“Your boyfriend is sooo hot!”

You gasped and closed the bag of fresh baked goods as if it were evidence to hide. Amelia popped up, bringing herself into view, having hid in your neighbor’s cubicle.

“What are you _doing_?” you huffed.

“She’s been eavesdropping,” Sunmi, the owner of the cubicle, called out from the other side, still sitting down.

“You helped!” you said, flabbergasted. What were they, children?

“Ugh, sorry for being jealous!” Amelia yawned, looking down at you - no, your bag - with a calculated bored expression.

“W-we’re not dating, it’s not like t-that,” you glared, moving the bag out of reach.

Sunmi finally popped up, an eyebrow raising. “Wait, you’re _not_ dating Vanderwood?”

“No!”

“You know his name?” Amelia gasped, looking at Sunmi. She shrugged. “Ugh, duh. That’s the hot baker, the Vanderwood's Bakery owner.”

“So he’s single?”

They both looked back at you for answers and you felt your whole neck tingling and burning.

“I-I don’t know!” You figured the answer was yes, but you never thought to ask! And if he was single, you sure didn’t want these two knowing! Oh no, what if he wasn’t single this whole time? The way he treated you wasn’t exactly how a taken man behaved as far as you knew. Unless married men were just nice people but you knew that couldn't possibly be true.

“But you have his number, right?” Sunmi asked with a smile perking on her lips.

“That doesn’t mean anything!”

“Oh my god you do,” Amelia gasped.

“Um, can I have his number then? Or give him mine?” Sunmi asked.

“No!” you huffed, snatching your bag and rushing towards the break room to eat.

You threw one last glare over your shoulder, still close enough to hear a last, “I can’t believe she’s dating the baker.”

It didn't matter that it wasn’t a proper meal, you stuffed yourself with the delicious, steaming bread that melted in your mouth. You took your phone out of your pocket, deciding you were secluded enough in the corner of the room.

Not thinking too much about it, you texted the one person who might get a kick out of your situation that _they_ indirectly caused.

“Heyyy all my coworkers saw you and think we’re dating...lol”

As soon as the circle indicated the message sent panic pricked in your throat. What if he saw it as an opportunity to never speak with you again? God that sounded like something he’d totally do. Ah, shit. What if he got annoyed with you because it wasn’t an emergency? What if...what if he left you on _read_? You’d rather die than _that_.

You started turning the phone over with a whimper before it vibrated under your fingers. Quickly unlocking it again your hand tapped the new text message...from Vanderwood! He replied immediately! He replied at all!

“Why?”

You stifled a laugh. How were you supposed to explain that bringing you fresh bread on your lunch break at work was totally awesome boyfriend behavior? You bit your smile and tried to think of a reply that even the romantically dense Vanderwood could understand...without giving away your own feelings of course.

Before you could think of a proper one, a second message came through.

“I’m sorry if I caused you trouble. By ‘all’ your coworkers do you mean the two women hiding in the cubicle next to yours?”

He saw that? How embarrassing. Oh, he was too cute. You started typing an ‘It’s okay’ but stopped as a _third_ message popped up.

“I’m really sorry. I can make it up to you. Should I come back and explain to your coworkers?”

You peeked around you, assessing that indeed no one was paying you any mind to see the shameful grin on your face. The wheels turned in your head as you thought his message over. Make it up to you, hm?

Feeling brave, you restarted your response.

“You can make it up to me by giving me more lessons?”

Playful, serious, teetering on the fence. Would he do it?

He didn’t respond right away and you considered sending a ‘Just kidding’ to follow up. Sigh. Maybe you’d have to accept that he wasn’t that into you, despite the mixed signals.

You finished up your food, but the familiar beep made you pause. Vanderwood!

“Alright.”

You squealed and dropped your empty bag, fumbling to pick it up and acutely aware of looks you were getting. Sighing, you tossed it and hurried to your desk, but slowed down as you saw Julee, the receptionist, waiting by your cubicle with a smile on her face.

“Um, hello,” you started, glancing around for signs of the two eavesdroppers.

“I didn’t know you were dating Vanderwood! This is so exciting, he comes off as intimidating, but he really is so nice. Make sure to save me a pastry when he comes back, okay?” she added with a wink.

You groaned.

Yeah, right, like Vanderwood was coming back after today’s fiasco.

But you might be completely wrong.

“Hey MC, _delivery_ ,” Castiel called you again, the hint of a sob on his lips. Jeez, go home Castiel, he needed a vacation. You shook the thought away and checked the clock in a panic. It was lunchtime. Oh. _Oh no_. No way, right?

You stood up quickly, glancing to see that Amelia nor Sunmi were present to disturb you and rushed out towards the main lobby to see Vanderwood waiting by the receptionist’s desk. You cringed, seeing Julee leaning over in her high seat, excitedly chatting him up about something that he continuously nodded to in understanding.

As the automatic door chimed upon opening, Vanderwood turned towards you and...smiled.

You stopped where you were. Control yourself. It was just a smile! But he didn’t usually - oh gosh, your crush was far more intense than you thought.

The smile faded quickly into concern and he approached you, one hand carrying the familiar brown bag and the other reaching - no, on now - your forehead.

“Are you alright?” he asked, scanning your face for signs of sickness. As long as _lovesickness_ didn’t count you were safe.

You couldn’t possibly communicate that so elected to gently nod. He hummed and flipped his hand over.

“Are you sure? You feel really hot, you might have a fever.”

_One that you’re causing!_

Screaming in the workplace wasn’t appropriate. You laughed instead and - politely as possible - removed the hand from your forehead.

“I’m fine! I swear! You, uh, came again,” you laughed more, attempting to change the subject. Your own awkwardness didn’t make the ‘wanting to scream’ feeling go away.

“Yes...since you’ll be gone the whole week, I planned to come by every day. Is...that okay? I don’t want to cause you more trouble after yesterday.”

“No trouble at all!” Julee called out from behind the two of you.

Good thing he wasn’t touching you anymore, or he might realize the heat emitting off of you was completely correlated to the embarrassment you were feeling.

You grabbed his hand and led him outside the building entirely where you wouldn’t be seen - or overheard.

“Privacy!” you declared as an explanation.

Vanderwood peeked around to the people and cars on the street and then back at you, tilting his head.

“Privacy?”

“F-from the office,” you stuttered, looking down to see that you were still holding his hand.

_Shit._

You looked back up to see him staring at you, then glancing down at your hands.

“U-uhm!”

He moved the bag of baked goods into your hand instead, replacing his.

“For you,” he declared.

“Thanks!”

_Too enthusiastic, dial it back, don’t make it weird._

“Thank you.”

_You already said that!_

“Okay, bye,” he mumbled, before jogging off in the direction that was opposite the bakery.

“I-it’s the other way, Vanderwood!”

He paused, hair swaying as he looked around, and then jogging past you again with a small wave.

You watched him fade down the street, holding the warm bag close and waiting for your heart to return to its normal rhythm. When it didn’t, you reluctantly re-entered the lobby, trying to rush back to your office space but not making it in time.

“MC!” Julee called. You felt your energy drain but turned to face her anyway.

“Make sure he brings those banana muffins tomorrow!”

You rolled your eyes. “They’re actually zucchini-banana. A-and no, I’m not sharing!”

You rushed back inside and returned to your desk with a sigh. Maybe you should consider job searching again, at the very least to protect your most prized possessions of bread.

“Is that freshly baked bread I smell again?” Castiel asked from over at his desk, though with the grate of his voice it sounded more like a cry for help than a question. You opened the bag to inspect what Vanderwood brought for you today, a little giddy to see the presentation so neat. He wrapped everything individually, even the cookies. Amazing.

You dug out the baguette, cut in half and single wrapped like the rest, and made your decision. You curled the bag close and carried it with you as you took the few steps over to Castiel’s cubicle. He was staring down at his desk phone, hair disheveled, and a semi-soaked hand towel laying in front of his keyboard. What the heck was going on here?

“Castiel,” you coughed.

Startled, he hit the phone off the hook and turned in his chair to see you, eyes darting to the bread in your hand. For the first time in a while, you thought maybe you saw life in his eyes.

“For you,” you offered.

He accepted it slowly, staring at the half-baguette as if it were a fragile newborn.

“Thank you, MC,” he gulped.

“U-uh, yeah, just don’t tell anyone I gave you any because I don’t share,” you grinned.

He nodded and returned to staring at the desk phone, his hands unwrapping the bread all the while. It was too uncomfortable to watch and you returned to your seat to eat the rest.

Sunmi and Amelia weren’t around so you relaxed. At least for today, you could eat in peace. It was…a good day after all.

Wednesday balanced it out because the morning was awful - the printer jammed, there was a tripped fire alarm, the coffee machine broke, and all it meant was you’d be at the office even _later_ tonight. You were being punished. For what, you didn’t know.

But lunch would be a saving grace because Vanderwood was coming. It was the only thing that kept you going through the day, imagining another one of his angelic smiles and his delivery from Heaven.

You waited outside for him, not wanting to be around _any_ of your co-workers, including the receptionist, this time. You fidgeted, wondering if you looked alright despite the stress of the day. Would he notice your hair wasn’t as put together? Were there circles under your eyes? Oh no, you didn’t notice that chipped nail before. Shit.

“MC?”

You hid the hand behind your back with a gasp as you looked up to see Vanderwood standing there. It was so obvious, there was no way he didn’t see you messing with your nail!

“Hi-hello!”

He smiled at you - at _you_. Your knees were melting but forced yourself to hold his gaze.

“You weren’t waiting for me, were you?” The angelic smile disappeared as he continued on. “I’m sorry, I was a few minutes later today because of the traffic. I’ll leave earlier next time,” he apologized.

“N-no, it’s alright, I just wanted to meet you outside today.”

He nodded, although it didn’t seem like he believed you.

“I just know your lunchtime is limited, so I don’t want you to waste it,” he said slowly, handing you today’s bag.

Did he remember that? Was he one of those geniuses that had a photographic memory? Hopefully not, you didn’t want him to remember you messing with your hand.

“You’re my favorite part of the lunch break, so it’s okay, haha,” you said, trying to reassure him.

Vanderwood blinked at you before moving away with a nod.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I just remembered I need to reschedule one of my weekend assistants, I have to go. Now. Bye!”

Was he getting red? You’d never know for sure because he never turned back to look at you before jogging off again. Why would he be red? The realization that you’d called him the ‘favorite part’ of your lunch break made you groan. He probably thought you were coming onto him! He was embarrassed! Oh crap! Well, things couldn’t get any worse than that. You did it, congratulations MC.

You needed to clear the air, you couldn’t have him thinking you liked him! Well, you did, but he couldn’t _know_ that.

You rushed back into the lobby, ignoring Julee as she attempted to ask you something about Vanderwood, and into the office straight for the kitchen. You just needed a second to sit down, eat some bread, and compose your scattered thoughts. Everything was going to be fine, Vanderwood would understand. He was a chill guy! He probably never worried a day in his life, he probably already forgot about it right now, who’s to say he even thought about you at all outside of the bakery, right?

“So it’s true!” You heard, boisterous and chirpy behind you. No, please, not now, not the office event organizer. You bit your lip and waited for Samara to catch up to you. She clapped a heavy hand on your back and looked down at your bag, securely tucked into your arms.

“Huh?” you asked, pretending not to be confused.

She simply laughed. “This is great news! Vanderwood’s Bakery makes amazing and healthy food, it’s perfect for future events, I was looking for someplace new.”

You knew where this was going, but were too dumbfounded to stop it. She was animated, waving her arms around to paint a picture you definitely didn’t need. “Now all I need, since you’re Vanderwood’s girl, is for you to get us some sort of discount. He’ll give one if it’s for where you work, right? We usually order about five cakes and a couple dozen cupcakes for the office, so tell him that, alright? Let me know for next month’s event! We’re counting on you!”

She clapped your back again and trotted off. If only she could see the disgust on your face. The rumors had gone around, there was no escaping this. Maybe if you didn’t say anything they’d fade away.

Thursday.

Apparently, the rumors had intensified after you didn’t correct Samara yesterday.

“Will your boyfriend come to next month’s event?”

“Will Vanderwood hand deliver everything to see you?”

“Wow, it’s so awesome that your husband cooks!”

“Aren’t you a little young to be married?”

“Bun in the oven has never been more accurate, huh?”

The bathroom door locked. Your head was dizzy, trying to quell the storm of _really bored_ office workers who created misunderstandings but didn’t care enough to fix them because of their latent entertainment value.

You would definitely be considering a job change, or at least a paper bag over your head. It’s not that they were _bad_ rumors specifically, but all they did was remind you of what _wasn’t_ real. If Vanderwood ever caught wind and thought you were encouraging them...you’d have to get a new identity and never visit his shop again. He was just a baker, you could pack up and go and he’d never be able to find you. But to not taste his again...either scenario was Hell.

The bathroom door burst open and you flinched on your toilet seat. The clack of heels stopped right in front of the stall door and you prayed to disappear. But no, wish denied, the rapid-fire fist knocked for you.

“Hey MC! Vanderwood is waiting for you!” Amelia squealed, her voice jumping over the bathroom tiles and ringing in your ears.

Had you no solace?

You creaked open the door to see her grinning face. “What’s the matter? Breaking up? Don’t want to see him?”

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re the worst.”

She giggled and moved out of the way for you. “Oh, come on, I’m teasing. I think I’m the only one here who doesn’t think you two are dating.”

There was no confirmation or denial to be heard as you quickly made your way to the lobby. You went through the motions. His hand was grabbed before you could potentially fall apart from a smiling face and pulled him outside much to the dismay of Julee.

“I’m fine!” you huffed, knowing it was a lie and that Vanderwood would ask. You left his hand so you could cross your arms, knowing you appeared defensive, but it felt most comfortable for you. After a few moments, Vanderwood’s free hand was on your shoulders, leading you gently away from your office building. You let him, heating up from his touch but also finding comfort in it. Vanderwood brought you to the side of the building and against the wall, out of immediate view of your tormentors - well, coworkers.

“You can tell me if you’re not,” he finally said.

Your crossed arms fell away. You were surprised, he was looking down at you so earnestly. You couldn’t possibly lie to him now.

“My coworkers have just been...so frustrating,” you admitted. It sounded silly out loud and you sighed, hanging your head down in shame to gaze at your feet.

“How so?”

Could you tell him? Oh...oh no, you forgot to clear things up yesterday, you were digging your hole deeper! You shook your head.

“About yesterday,” you started, your gaze now going to his shoes. “I’m sorry, I think I upset you. I was just trying to say that I enjoy your...bread,” you decided on.

“You didn’t upset me,” he corrected.

Your head lifted to see his serious expression.

“O-oh. Good.”

So whatever that was yesterday had nothing to do with you. That was a relief. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He tried again, face softening.

“So what’s this about your coworkers? It’s not because of the misunderstanding Monday, right? I can still explain for you…”

You scoffed. Those people weren’t reasonable but they weren’t children either, they shouldn’t need Vanderwood to come in to believe you.

“A little. They just…” You groaned, glancing away to finish your thought. “They really think we’re dating, or married, or p-pregnant. It’s ridiculous, they won’t believe me, we may as well pretend to date.” You laughed at that, but at least it was off your chest. Maybe Vanderwood would even find your situation humorous.

You returned your gaze to him. Vanderwood wasn’t laughing, he was back to staring intently at you. Oh no, offended?

“If that’s easier for you, then alright,” he nodded, handing you the bag.

“What?”

You didn’t mean for that to be out loud.

“We can date - I mean, _pretend_ to date, if that makes it easier at work.”

You stared at him, stunned, and he took it as a cue to continue. “I-I already agreed to give you more baking lessons, so t-they can be our pretend dates. So, if that’s what we - _you_ want…”

He trailed off, his face beginning to turn that deeper shade like yesterday.

“Y-yeah, sure,” you nodded, squeezing the hot bag against your chest.

“Okay, then...h-how about next week after work we start lessons again?” he suggested.

Your head bobbed vigorously but you were too excited to stop. “Yeah!”

“Great. Then…”

“See you tomorrow,” you interjected. He sure had a habit of running off, so it was only fair you were the one to say goodbye first. Vanderwood bit his lip and made a small grunt. With a wave, he was jogging off again, but you stayed where you were, heart fluttering in overwhelming bursts. It was fake, but...you were going on a date - _several dates_ \- with Vanderwood! You sat the rest of your lunch outside, grinning into every bite until you saw paper at the bottom of the bag along with a pack of cookies differently-wrapped in pink foil.

You opened the note first, just seeing your name neatly written on the thin paper. Your eyebrow perked. What was that about? Did he set these aside for you?

The wrapper opened and you and took a careful bite, eyes lighting up as it melted into your mouth. Oh! You took a bigger bite before setting them aside and rushing for your phone.

“Emergency!!! U gave me the most delicious cookies today but I've never seen them in the shop before. Are they new?? I definitely will want to buy more of those.”

You knew you should be saving some for the late shift but it was too good - you couldn’t help yourself. One-by-one they were stuffed in your mouth, barely registering anything except the way they felt on your tongue. After licking at your fingers, letting out a small whine, knowing you had inhaled all three in mere seconds.

“You made the dough. I figured you’d want to try them.”

You squealed. No way - _you_ made these? He baked them? You slid down to the ground, burying your face in your knees. Unbelievable. Those were the best things you’d ever made without question. The favor had to be returned tonight. You remembered everything he touched you - _taught_ you - and had most of the ingredients at home already. Just a simple batch of cookies!

After work, though, since your lunch break was ending. You rushed back into the office building, still getting comments about your relationship with Vanderwood, but strangely...feeling okay with them.

Friday.

It was the last day of overtime, your weekend, your freedom from your coworkers. But more than that, you were to see Vanderwood again! You were incredibly nervous, not correcting anyone about your relationship with him, moving beyond ‘okay’ to even smiling about it. Although you were up for several hours past your bedtime the previous night, you were confident in your cookie creation and praying for lunch. The container was snatched off your desk and practically ran outside to wait for him, waving cheerfully at a confused Julee on your way out.

You should’ve waited.

You slammed into the person entering and almost dropped your gift. No, your cookies! They stumbled in the air but you sighed out in relief once they nestled securely in your arms. Oh no, that was probably rude.

Your head swiveled back to apologize but you swallowed when you saw it was none other than Vanderwood himself, not knocked over at all and even seemingly amused by your mistake given the light smirk on his lips.

“Vandy, I’m sorry!”

He raised a hand and you slowed down.

“Outside again?” he asked, glancing over at Julee, who was standing up from her seat.

“Y-yeah,” you sighed. Vanderwood held the door open for you with his arm, his free hand moving to the small of your back to guide you away. It stayed there and you felt increasingly flustered as you both walked to the side of the building like before. Once you both stopped, you felt his hand moving away and hurriedly continued forward all the way to the end of the building. Out of excuses for him to keep touching you, the hand returned to his side.

As long as he didn’t ask why you went all the way to the end things would be fine.

“Why here?”

_Dammit!_

“I think they could hear us,” you fibbed.

He frowned but didn’t comment on it.

“Well, um, these are for you,” you said, handing out the small container.

“What’s this?” he asked, swapping the daily bread with your present.

“It’s a gift. I made cookies for you, like how you taught me.”

Vanderwood opened the container to scan the contents and quickly closed it back, smiling down at you.

“Thank you. These look really good.”

There it was – the smile that could knock a woman unconscious if wielded so haphazardly like this.

“Mhmm!”

The bag of freshly baked was squeezed into your chest again and you were the one escaping – er, shuffling off first this time. “Okay, bye!”

He didn’t need to see you flustered like this. Unable to vocalize, you needed to sit down, eat, and get back to work. Your hand pressed on the building door and you took the opportunity to glance over your shoulder, assuming he finished his business and was jogging off again. But he wasn’t. Vanderwood was still standing there, container open, staring down at your gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @Lokiiwood
> 
> If you liked this, please leave a comment :)


	3. Prior Engagements / Sponge Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood has some issues to work out at home _and_ the bakery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the love so far ;w; I'm glad people like this old, silly AU...it makes me so soft ahh...

Vanderwood couldn’t stop staring at the container, leaning over it as his arms rested on the kitchen counter. Was this yours? Or did you buy it just for the cookie batch? If it was yours, did you have a lot more like it? Was this your favorite one or your least favorite one? How many cookies did you end up making, you’d put in just about _20_ for him. He’d already eaten three and they were...amazing. Much better than the shop’s by far. He was impressed but mostly proud. Although you really struggled at first, you did this all on your own as he taught you.

“Mary, you’ve been staring at that container for 30 minutes,” he heard from behind him.

Vanderwood grumbled and stood up fully, pushing the container further away from him on the counter. Seven was right but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“What’s in it?” he asked.

As if he’d bring up ‘Cupcake Girl’ around him ever again.

“Cookies. I’m going to my room.”

Vanderwood briskly walked past him to his bedroom, locking the door and nearly jumping to lay on his bed. He exhaled, wondering what the hell he was doing. Why should he feel awkward about explaining something so mundane, why should be worried about going home and dealing with something like this at all? Vanderwood frowned, knowing where these feelings were stemming from. He should really...move out. He already wanted to in the past, but Seven was insistent that he stay with him and his wife a little longer for safety reasons. It was easier for him to only have to watch one house and Vanderwood caved.

But it’d been two years now, and Vanderwood was the most open he could possibly be by having a literal public business named after him. It was time to leave for sure, who knew when those two would be having kids or something. He definitely didn’t want to be around for that. He should probably voice it to Seven though.

Reluctantly, Vanderwood got up and unlocked the door.

“Seven?” he called out.

Hearing the faint sound of giggling, he felt irritation claw at him. He already knew it meant that Seven and his wife were doing that - that _thing_ they do.

“I told you, huh?”

“Mhmm, so tasty, you have a new rival, rwar.”

Vanderwood cringed and re-entered the kitchen to see Seven feeding her one of the cookies from the container. Seeing him, he lit up.

“Dude! These are by far the best cookies you’ve ever made. Did you change the recipe?”

He strolled over and snapped the container close, trying to remind himself that he didn’t feel smug and that he felt irritated.

“ _I_ didn’t make them. ‘Cupcake Girl,’ as you call her, did.”

“MC?” she said through a full mouth, eyes wide.

Vanderwood glared at Seven for sharing your name but nodded. “So don’t you dare eat any more of these cookies.”

He picked up the container and held it high, turning to walk back to his room.

“But _Mar-y_ , you don’t even like sweets!” whined Seven.

“It’s a gift, I’m not sharing,” he declared. Oh, right, the reason he was here. “Also, I’m moving out.”

MC gagged on the rest of her cookie and Seven rushed to his side. Vanderwood held the container higher, out of reach - _just in case_.

“What? No, no, no way.”

“It’s not negotiable.”

“Vanderwood, I just don’t think -”

“It’s been two - nearly three years, Saeyoung.”

Seven quieted down with a serious frown on his face.

“Saeran moved out months ago, and it’s about time I do, too,” Vanderwood added, softer. He didn’t want this conversation, didn’t want to see Seven away from his carefree mood despite how annoying it was for him.

“But Saeran wasn’t Agency, he doesn’t have the same targets you do,” Seven sighed as if he just didn’t understand.

“Yet he can hack better than you, has the same DNA as you, and the same face and family name as you. Even I got confused once. Saeran is fine and _I’m_ fine.”

Seven wasn’t having it, shaking his head but relenting under Vanderwood’s unwavering stare.

“But I can still monitor Saeran. Please, Mary, at least let me install CCTVs in the bakery. At the _very least_.”

“And then you’ll stop annoying me?”

Seven grinned at that and shrugged his shoulders. “No promises.”

“Yeah, whatever then. Let’s do it all Sunday.”

“Why all Sunday?”

“I...have prior engagements.”

Prior engagements. Who was he kidding? Seven had figured him out within an hour. Vanderwood attempted to explain your situation, and that only made him and his wife laugh. What was so incredulous about it? It’s not like it was his idea! You suggested it and he was going along to help. You basically begged him, _pleaded with him_ to pretend to date. You needed him to do this for you and he had little choice in the matter. He was morally _required_ to do this to make up for the stress he was putting you under at work. He had to pretend to date you. This was the best way - the only way, even - to fix things.

Frustrated at being laughed at, he realized he’d been sweeping the same spot for the last five minutes and stopped, glancing at the bakery’s doors. Should he go to your job and walk you to the bakery, wasn’t that a date thing to do? Shouldn’t he do that for a his...fake girlfriend? He paced the pristine floors, sweating for reasons he was unsure of, and turned up the A/C. No, Vanderwood decided, it was a long walk there. By the time he arrived, you could’ve already made it to the bakery. It was better to wait.

Five minutes to closing, isn’t this about the time you usually got here? Well, when it rained you usually rushed and came seven minutes to closing. It wasn’t raining anymore, so perhaps you were taking it easy. When you were tired from work, sometimes it went all the way to three minutes to closing. You had been working late the previous week, maybe you were just tired. Shit, was he really counting down the seconds? This was weird. All of this was _weird_ and people were staring.

“We’re closed!” he called out to them. All the other tables had been cleaned and chairs put up except the couple finishing off a shared piece of cheesecake.

They glanced up at the clock - the same one he’d been staring at for longer than was probably necessary - but it didn’t matter.

“Um, can we fin-”

“We’re closed.”

They glared at him but took the cake and left as instructed. He sighed. They probably weren’t coming back, were they? But that wasn’t as important as…

“Vandy!”

You entered right as the couple left, adorable in your bundle of a coat as you began stripping it off with the brightest smile on your face. He had mentally prepared all day for this - at the cost of being distracted and messing up a couple of other things - but he still felt ill-prepared. Was he nervous? For what? It was just baking, none of this was a real date, and you weren’t...He shook his head of that train of thought.

Vanderwood strode to your side to help you remove the coat and you giggled out a quiet thanks that made him regret going over.

“How were the cookies? Did you try them yet?” you asked, dressed in a cute, white blouse with dark pants.

He nodded. _Keep it professional._

“They were excellent, you did a very good job. Are you prepared for our next lesson?”

You bit your lip and shot him an ‘OK’ symbol; adorable.

“T-today we’ll make a sponge cake. It’s easy, and you like them, right?”

You gasped and nodded, your smile now a blinding grin. Stop that. _Stop that_.

“Okay w-well let’s head to the kitchen then, I’ve already prepared everything, and all we have to do is-”

  
“Scrub our hands and put our hair up?”

“Precisely,” he exhaled.

With a cheer, you raced for the kitchen. You certainly were a lot happier when you got off work. What were you like on the weekends? Did you go out with friends? Did you prefer to stay at home? What if...you could do these ‘dates’ on those days too? What if he saw you...every day?

What the hell, brain. Vanderwood moved to lock the front door and close the outside lights with a sigh. So, so irritating.

He quickly joined you in the kitchen, watching how your lips twisted in concentration as you tied your hair back, looking into the mirror hanging over the sink. You caught his gaze and shot him a smile before returning your eyes to the mirror. There went that intense craving to kiss you. His mind was already jumping to excuses to touch you again, the way his hand felt on your back burned him the rest of that entire day.

You turned on the water and started scrubbing at your hands, looking back over to him as he waited his turn at the sink.

“Hey Vandy, new security cameras? They look nice.”

“Yes,” he hummed, still staring at your mouth as you spoke.

“Hey, wait, there’s…” You looked around the kitchen, squinting your eyes.

“There’s...six cameras in here. No way, are they all real?”

“Seven - one is hidden. They’re all functional if that’s what you’re...uh, asking,” he confirmed. Your mouth closed and he looked back up to your eyes.

“Pft, why the heck do you have _seven_ cameras in just your _kitchen_?”

_Because I used to be a spy and people might still want to kill me and poison my supplies if they’re bored enough._

“To protect my secret recipes,” he said with a small grin, but as seriously as he could manage. You laughed at that and it made him smile more. Making you laugh felt...good. Lying to you didn’t, but it was something he was quite literally trained to be good at.

You finished scrubbing your hands and gave him room to start.

“Okay, okay, really, why? Did you get a special small business deal with a security company or something?”

Well, that wasn’t completely wrong. Seven did his services for free to ease his own conscience.

“To stop thieves,” he corrected.

“Six cameras for some petty bread thieves? They’re targeting bakeries now in organized crime?” The sarcasm and amusement both dripped from your question.

“Seven cameras,” he tutted, causing you to laugh again, “And you’d be surprised how often thieves target small shops because they typically have low security.”

“Wow, you sound like you have experience.”

“I…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. The feel of a gun scraping against his teeth made him shiver.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He didn’t mean to upset you. But...you sure looked cute with your concerned expression.

“It, um, gets intense with the competitive bakeries,” he chuckled.

“R-right,” you laughed back. “Well, I won’t tell your baking secrets.”

“I know.”

You stared up at him but didn’t say anything further. What were you thinking in that pretty head of yours? He dried his hands off and tried to maintain eye contact. This would be a good time to guide you through the kitchen with his hands again, but...he shouldn’t. Was he a creep or something? He couldn’t keep making excuses - and they _were_ all excuses - to touch you anyway for both your sakes.

“Um, today, I have the ingredients out for you, but I want you to gather the utensils to use. You should get used to knowing if you need a bowl or a plate, whisk or a spoon, etcetera.”

“I’m not _that_ clueless, Vanderwood,” you laughed, dancing around the kitchen to look through cabinets. You had a vague idea of where things were from the first time, but you did a lot of closing and opening and glancing back at the ingredients. He didn’t realize he was staring until you finally stopped searching and looked towards him.

“Okay, I give up, where are the spoons?”

Oh. This was never supposed to be a game of hide-and-seek if you knew the name of an item he would’ve easily pointed it out. Vanderwood blinked and sheepishly walked over to the cabinet built into the main kitchen island. He bent down and pulled one out, quickly inspecting it for damage.

“Um, here,” he mumbled, standing up and handing the large, metal utensil to you. Your eyes seemed to sparkle in its reflection as you shot him a quick thanks and peered over the counter at your small pile.

“Okay, what do you think?”

“Perfect.”

It slipped out before he could even check, he had just been checking out your eyes. This was awful. At least the lesson would be quick today.

He focused as much as he could on telling you what to do - things were going a lot smoother than last time. Vanderwood could easily chalk it up to there being fewer steps than the cookies, but the way your arms moved more confidently was something that only experience provided. The yolk and sugar were whisked together perfectly smooth without him having to test it, and now you knew to add in the flour slowly. It made his chest feel light and he wasn’t sure why. Did he like teaching? He certainly didn’t mind these ‘dates’ with you at least.

“Say, why the sudden interest in baking?”

Your sifting paused as you blinked over at him.

“W-what?”

There was surprise on your face but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe he should rephrase. “Why do you want to learn to bake? Is it for health reasons?”

You hurriedly continued sifting the flour into the bowl, the same shocked expression painting your features and arm movements.

“U-um,” you stammered. “Yes?”

Normally he’d be annoyed at such an obvious lie, but you looked so flustered and cute that he couldn’t help but think you were embarrassed by whatever the real reason was. Well, fine, he’d let it go for now. It’s not like it mattered for him, he was just curious and happy to have your company.

If only he could be satisfied with just that.

His feet brought themselves behind you before he realized what he was doing - recreating last time when he got to touch you, to hold you, when you both almost… No, you didn’t need help sifting anymore, he didn’t want to scare you away. But…

“Van-”

You hadn’t realized he was behind you. He didn’t have time to stop the bowl, and everything happened at once. The bowl clanked to the floor, followed by the spoon, and all of your hard work dripped down your shirt.

“No!”

Your hands hesitantly wiped at your shirt and you groaned.

“I-I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention I-”

“It’s fine, it was my fault. Let’s...go to the sink, okay?”

He cursed himself for his overeagerness and then again when he realized his hand was on the small of your back again. _This time wasn’t on purpose, so it doesn’t count._ Vanderwood reminded himself that you were the one actually in distress right now and to return his attention to you. The sink ran as you splashed yourself, wiping away the would-be sponge cake mixture. Seeing there was nothing he could really do in this situation, he went to retrieve you a towel while you finished up.

What a disaster. He pulled out the first one his hand touched in the closet and turned towards you, but his feet stayed glued in place.

Your hands picked at the mixture-less but slightly yellow-stained blouse, but it was soaked. The white of the fabric made it...completely see-through. Perhaps you didn’t notice yet, but he did - deep red and lacey, form-fitting bra, a cute black pattern decorating the straps. His eyes flicked to your mostly-dry pants. Vanderwood noticed that similar underwear in stores came in pairs...did you...match?

He could’ve pulled a neck muscle with how fast he looked away when he saw you start to look up at him.

“Vanderwood, thank you, but my shirt might be ruined...I shouldn’t have worn white.”

A flick of his tongue wiped across his lips and his shoulders tensed. He still had to turn and look, he still had to give you the towel. Trying to keep a straight face, Vanderwood leveled his eyes with yours and not your chest and walked over to hand you the towel.

“Dry yourself off, don’t want you getting sick. Here, um, take my shirt, then.”

Before you could comment, he was tugging his purple shirt over his head and tossing it to you.

_Don’t stare. Don’t stare._

This would do for now. He spun away and went to retrieve an apron to keep away the chill of the bakery off his newly exposed chest. But you’d still said nothing. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw you wide-eyed, then quickly turning away from him. Oh no. So you’d noticed your wet shirt. He liked your expression when you were embarrassed but not like this - he didn’t want you uncomfortable around him. Well, it couldn’t be helped for now. He’d just have to be more careful.

He grabbed the apron as he left the kitchen to give you some privacy. Outside, he tied it expertly and leaned against the wall. This was all his fault because he had some weird desire - _some sort of barely contained impulse_ \- to wrap his arms around you. If you had any idea of how much he craved it, he wouldn’t blame you for never speaking to him again. This weird acquaintanceship based around favors was exhausting. Perhaps he should just tell you so you could make the wise choice to run away. Vanderwood wouldn’t like it, but he knew he wouldn’t go as far as to track you.

“Vanderwood?”

Hearing his name snapped him out of his pouting and he dipped back into the kitchen. “Yeah? Let me hang your shirt to...dry.”

The end of his sentence trailed off as he saw you nearly buried in his clothes, holding it up comfortably over your nose with your shoulders and hugging your arms inside. He wasn’t sure what the noise he made was, a scoff or a laugh, but the sight of you amused him. Maybe it was a natural posture for someone still embarrassed. He wouldn’t comment on it and took the wet blouse draped over the side of the sink.

“U-um, I can dry it at home, it’s fine to carry back,” you piped up, moving your head completely out from under the shirt.

“Unless you’re leaving now there’s no reason to not let it start drying at least.”

“Wait...I can start over?”

“Well, unless you made a second batch I don’t know about, I think we’ll need to start over, yes.”

You bit your lip and fell away from his gaze. “Thank you so much…”

It wasn’t that big of a deal, but your reaction made it seem like he was doing some huge favor for you. Don’t get the wrong idea! “It’s not a problem, really. I can’t even count how many kitchen accidents have happened since I opened the bakery...you’re not an anomaly, I promise.”

You smiled up at him and nodded. He exhaled, taking his turn to look away now. Your smiles always seemed so genuine and warm, Vanderwood wondered if perhaps that was worse than your timid appreciation that he also wanted to avoid.

He tapped at the blouse in his hands as he went to the front of the kitchen again, heading towards the small coat rack for employees. Hm? Vanderwood glanced down, his thumb pressing into the fabric. Oh, this was...still very much warm. That made sense since you’d been wearing it all day - pressed into your body, covering your bra, it keeping your scent…

Hurriedly, he put the shirt on a hanger, snatching his hands away after the deed was done. Vanderwood sighed. What was _wrong_ with him? And how many times would he keep asking himself that question without a response? He glanced back over his shoulder, hoping you hadn’t seen him looking down at your blouse like it was something bizarre, but you were, in fact, looking in his direction. You ducked your head down and took off for the sinks without comment. Oh god, maybe you did notice? If you found him weird or a pervert then you wouldn’t be wrong.

He calmly approached, letting you wash your hands in silence and giving the most nonchalant nod he could muster. You nodded back then continued averting his gaze, returning to the supplies for the second round of cake-making. Oh jeez, could he fix this?

No, he couldn’t.

The rest of the date went smoothly. He hated it. You followed his instructions ever precisely and made no other commentary unless to confirm something or ask a question. It truly felt like a class and not a date, but that’s all they were supposed to be, right?

“Thank you so much, Vanderwood,” you said, giving him only a shy smile before you were retrieving your blouse and then your coat. It felt so wrong, so distant. He felt if you left like this you might never come back. That could be a good thing, right? So then why was he still opening his mouth?

“Hey…”

You paused your coat zipping and looked up at him, surprised, then quickly directed your gaze to your zipper again. You fiddled at it with a, “U-uh, yes?”

“Would you, uh, want to continue tomorrow, too?”

“O-oh...like, move up next week’s to tomorrow?”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling it burn as he tried to answer. “Well, no, we don’t have to move it. I just have the time, you know, if you wanted an extra day...I can always mak - I mean, it’s not a big _deal_ if we met up twice a week, or if weekends are better, or whenever, you know…”

Rambling? Seriously? He felt his heart rate increasing as he waited for an answer. You were in perfect reason to reject him, but Vanderwood felt sick at the idea of it. Was he seriously moving up lessons to twice a week or “whenever” just because this day ended so awkwardly? Talk about overcompensation.

“Weekends...aren’t you off on weekends?” you gasped.

He couldn’t take it. Vanderwood turned around, pretending to check his pockets and then heading towards the kitchen to retrieve his ‘lost’ item.

“It doesn’t matter to me, I don’t do much on weekends anyway,” he yawned - which was true.

“Wow, um, that sounds great, Vanderwood...I don’t want to overstep, though...is it really okay that you can do all this extra stuff for me?”

“Of course!” he called out, rustling some silverware as he continued to ‘search.’ “Anything for my favorite customer!”

Oh, hell, did he seriously just say that? His palm found itself smacking his forehead. _Idiot, absolute idiot._

If he died right now it wouldn’t be enough to shake off the embarrassment.

“Thank you,” you finally answered after a long pause. “Are you okay? Do you need help looking for something?”

He closed the drawer and exhaled. “No, found it!”

Vanderwood returned to the front to see you waiting by the door, chewing your lip with a smile on your face. The anxiety he felt seemed to settle at the bottom of his stomach - still there, but light.

“Um, is this Friday good?”

He pretended to think about it. “Um, yeah, that’s fine. I’ll see you then.”

Although it was still too chilly with just an apron on, he unlocked the door and held it open for you.

“Goodnight, Vanderwood.”

“Goodnight, MC.”

Your smile grew wider and you gave him a small wave before you were off into the cold air. He watched you go, letting the door fall back in place. Goosebumps pricked at his skin. Maybe it was colder than he thought? Vanderwood sighed and finally tore his eyes away from the door as you disappeared from his line of sight. He dreaded his rash decision to extend the dates, but at the moment he still felt...relief. Maybe he wasn’t as idiotic as he thought if you could still smile at him like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @Lokiiwood
> 
> If you liked this, please leave a comment :) I seriously love them all haha you're all so encouraging and sweet!


	4. Toasty Dreaming / Crème Brûlée

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, the only thing more important than sleeping is going on a date with Vanderwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (◕‿◕✿) I felt so uwu with the ending of this chapter...;;; Thanks to everyone who comments and kudos on this story. We're SOFTTTTT!
> 
> Also, I'm addicted to this cute love song I thought fits Baker!Vandy so well...You can listen to it if you like! It's called [Thumping by Kim Min Seung (쿵쿵쿵 by 김민승).](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2qDP0uiYNAw)

You couldn’t sleep and then you couldn’t work. It would polite at this point to call you useless. Rampant thoughts of seeing Vanderwood more often, of possibly extending your dates to the weekends, echoed in your mind at all times. Vanderwood’s large, warm hand touching your shoulder, the scent of fresh bread and burning wood smoking around him, his hard-to-read but kind eyes that never met yours but always seemed to be watching...

“Hey there, sleepy girl, you sick?”

You blinked up and hastily rubbed your eyelids. Samara hovered over your cubicle. When had she gotten there? You weren’t sleeping, were you? Oh dear.

“N-no, sorry,” you muttered. Was it a lie to say you weren’t sick? You weren’t even sure. Maybe you were.

“Good. So what did your boyfriend say about next month’s event? Do you know yet?”

Of course. She hadn’t given up on that yet.

“I haven’t asked.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly a little taken back by your blunt honesty. “You two having problems?”

No, but you might if these ‘dates’ didn’t go well. Oh no, was that it? You were worried. You tried to tell yourself that only someone who liked you would suggest extending your time together, but then again, maybe you just really sucked at baking. He _did_ call you his favorite customer, not a friend. It made your heart clench then, and the memory was still felt fresh enough to hurt now.

“Not sure,” you said, honest again.

Samara frowned and gently squeezed your shoulder. “Hey, I’ll go ask for you to go home early today if you want. Interested?”

“Oh…”

She gave an encouraging smile and you couldn’t help but sheepishly smile back. “Yeah, that’d be really nice, actually.”

“Go ahead and pack up. Enjoy your weekend.”

“Thank you,” you sighed.

Samara wasn’t so bad.

You didn’t remember the last time you left work early but it was a nice change of pace. A slight feeling of rejuvenation overcame you as soon as you were walking. With your careful steps you thought of all the errands you could do with the new time - maybe grocery shopping, a nice hair wash, cleaning your home…

Your steps faltered until you were standing still, staring across the street at a local bakery shop - one you’d only used once or twice. You had extra time, you should go home…

But you didn't. You passed the shop and kept walking, the familiar road comfortable on your feet but still feeling nervous. You'd be early - no, you still had time to go back - but you'd love a treat right now - no, was that an excuse?

With a frustrated sigh, you stopped across the street from Vanderwood's bakery. Would it be weird to just...sit in-shop for a little bit before your cooking date? Would you look desperate? You needed to make a decision and you needed to make one now before passerby gave you weird looks. It was just Vanderwood. It was fine.

The front door chimed louder than you remembered as you timidly pushed it open and hurried to an empty table in the corner. Wasn’t this place a little busy? You’d never seen it so full, but that was reassuring. Maybe Vanderwood wouldn’t notice you.

A worker gave you a nod. You supposed that wasn’t odd, you were a regular. You waved them over and they quickly approached your side. Ah, now you recognized him. It was Sev, his short and curly black hair a stark contrast to his yellow, almost cat-like eyes. He was the first employee of the bakery who had taken a break for university but recently returned.

“Hey, how are you? Everything alright?” he smiled, a slight purr in his friendly voice.

“F-fine,” you mumbled, peeking behind him at the counter. “Hey, uh, I’m not feeling well. Would it be too much to just order from you instead of going to the front?”

Sev shrugged and nodded. “Sure. It’s not like I can say no, I think Vanderwood would fire me,” he chuckled.

H-huh? What was that supposed to mean?

The strange remark was let go as you listed off a cake and coffee, not caring too much about what you were buying since everything was good. You handed him the cash and he whistled off to complete your order. Good, good. You pulled a menu up as a barrier, glancing around and settling on a woman you didn’t recognize.

Who was she? Beautiful, poised, and long, brown hair. But most strange of all - she was behind the counter. Was she a new worker? You’d never seen her before. Maybe you didn’t know all the associates here like you thought you did. She was wearing an apron, but it wasn’t store-issued. It was a calm yellow with frills and a single printed coffee mug in the center. Just what was going on here?

Your eyes widened as Vanderwood appeared from the back, smiling at the woman and sharing a laugh and head shake.

Oh, gods. Instant jealousy flared up in your stomach as you watched them continue to talk. Vanderwood used his arms - demonstrating something and pointed towards the back. Had he been teaching her baking?! You assumed you were the only one, but based on what? The woman nodded her head and let herself out, throwing him a smile and wave.

Closer, you could hear her unnervingly delightful voice, a mature almost-singsong that moved evenly and calmly, call back to him. “Thank you again, Mr. Vanderwood. I’ll see you next time, do come to visit more often.”

He didn’t open his mouth to reply, just casually waved before his eyes began raking over the store.

“Eep!”

You buried your face behind the menu, feeling absolutely ridiculous.

“Heya MC, here’s your cake and coffee!”

Could he be _any_ louder?

He set down your plate and cup but frowned down at you with curious eyes. “Hiding from someone?”

“Erm, kinda. I’m fine though, thank you.”

“Okay, well just let me know if there’s an issue. Vanderwood will-”

“Nope! It’s okay! I’m fine, no need to bother him about little ole me…”

“Hmm...alright. Enjoy then,” Sev said, returning to work with a slow stride. You weren’t sure how he did it - always attentive and quick but never appearing so. It always seemed like there was only one customer in the establishment with the way he meandered around.

Exhaling, you left the menu to stand on its own as you dug into the vanilla slice that was still warm. Your eyes fluttered closed as you savored it, but they were hard to open again. You sure were tired, huh? Well, just another two hours and your lessons would start. Just two...more...hours…

Vanderwood wasn’t dressed as a baker when he finally came into view, donning a black suit, black cape, black top hat, and white mask. He looked like...the Masked Tuxedo. Vague childhood memories swirled in your mind as you looked around from where you sat on the ground. Huh, you weren’t at the bakery either? In fact, you weren’t sure where you were. There was just gray all around you, stretching into the horizon and forming the sky. But with Vanderwood here, despite his ridiculous outfit, you felt calm.

  
  
“Vandy?”

The Masked Tuxedo’s eyes were hidden, but you knew he was focusing on you from where he stood a little ways away. He tipped his hat to you and then went back to staring at the sky. You followed his gaze, wondering what he was looking for in the emptiness. After a moment, you stood up and strolled over to his side, eyes taking in the costume. Hm, not bad, actually. Vanderwood looked really good in a suit.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked.

He dropped his head to look down at you before his hands, covered in delicate white gloves, lifted your chin.

“Hm?!”

Vanderwood spoke but you couldn’t understand him. His lips moved in slow motion, not matching the garbled language that came out of his mouth. But it was still Vanderwood’s calm voice and you surrendered to it. He let go of your chin and instead clasped one of your hands between both of his.

He was telling you something important and now you felt guilty for not speaking up.

“I’m sorry, Vanderwood. I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

His eyes widened beneath his mask for a moment before he hurriedly let go and backed away. He looked embarrassed. Vanderwood spun with a flourish of his cape and began to run.

“Hey! I’m sorry, please wait for me!”

Your legs moved in slow motion just like his lips did, even though your frantic footsteps echoed across the gray. The distance increased. You were going to lose him.

“Vanderwood! _Vandy_!”

You tumbled to your knees and hurriedly raised your head only to see no one there. He was gone and you were alone. Panic shot through your veins, but not as much as the burning and overwhelming sensation of abandonment.

  
  
“MC.”

  
  
Behind you, Vanderwood’s voice was clear. However, when you looked, no one was there.

  
  
“Walk toward my voice.”

  
  
“I don’t see you?”

  
  
“Please…”

  
  
Biting your lip, you steeled yourself and rose. “Here,” he said softly. He was so close...You continued to follow his soft, guiding words until two invisible arms wrapped around your torso.

  
  
“You trusted me,” he sighed. Relieved. Your eyes closed while a smile blossomed.

“You came back.”

  
  
He didn’t comment on that, just squeezed you tighter. His lips softly pressed against your ear and your eyes shot open. There he was - the Masked Tuxedo. Without a mask. In the corners of your vision, you could clearly see bright and large red roses blooming across the once-gray field. They sprung around the two of you and continued to speedily spiral out in every direction like a cyclone of petals. A single finger from Vanderwood trailed down your cheek, directing your attention back to him. He didn’t need to speak for you to understand, he only needed to lean in…

The back of a hand caressed your cheek in the darkness. The more it did, the more you could feel it. It was calloused, warm, strong...and tasted funny.

The hand snatched itself away and you jolted up, light flooding your senses.

Vanderwood’s hand drew away as he stood over you, a confused look on his face. “D-did you just bite me? I was trying to poke you awake, I wasn’t…”

He trailed off and chuckled, one hand resting on the table to support his weight.

“Good morning.”

“Oh my God, I’m...sorry.” Your voice was still groggy and you cursed yourself inwardly. This was so embarrassing. Had you just slept in the bakery this whole time? One look around and you saw it was already lights out outside the shop with dim internal ones.

And your menu was gone. In fact, _everything_ was already cleaned. Your cake and coffee had long disappeared and the only thing that shouldn’t be there was you.

“No problem. So, are you going home or…?”

“U-um! I still want to do the date, if you’ll have me.”

You knew you must sound pathetic but Vanderwood gave a curt nod and motioned for you to stand. Once you did, he finished wiping down the table and pushed in the chair.

“Sure, let’s get started.”

Oh, was it really this easy? If you didn't know better, you'd think Vanderwood almost sounded happy you were staying. As you followed him behind the counter and to the kitchen, your memories from before you fell asleep pounced back into your head. Oh! That woman!

“Did you hire someone new, Vandy?”

“Hm? No.”

He began switching gloves and you bit your lip. No, you shouldn’t ask. It wasn’t any of your business, right? It didn’t matter if he had a friend that was a girl...an acquaintance model of a woman...a super hottie that could seduce him from right under your nos-

“You mind telling me why you were sleeping at the bakery?” he asked, pointing you towards the sink to wash your hands.

There was no hiding it, was there?

“I’m just a little tired today, that’s all.”

“Are you sleeping well?”

“Ah, yeah, was up a little late thinking of things…”

“Yeah?”

Okay, well, a little dishonesty was fine. You couldn’t just tell him you were thinking of him all night!

“Mhmm!”

You ran the water and began washing your hands, avoiding his gaze until he walked away. Your shoulders relaxed and you finished up, joining him and eagerly listening to him explain crème brûlée theory. But, you found yourself increasingly staring lazily at his face. He’d always been ‘pretty’ but not all of him was. He had a masculine charm about him, even through his thick eyelashes and long hair. But why did you feel that way exactly? Was it his chin? Maybe his lips? His lips were kind of nice, too…

“Did you get all that?” he asked, turning away from the counter full of ingredients to look at you.

“Uh…”

“It’s okay, I went a little fast. I’ll explain more as we go.”

“Thank you.”

He flashed you a small smile that you returned before he began directing you. This was getting a lot easier, even though it was a new ‘system’ and dish. Were you really starting to get the hang of baking? Imagine being able to tell people you could make a nice _crème brûlée_! That would be so awesome!

It was another amazing date and Vanderwood even smiled at you several times. Light-hearted and exhausted, you bent over the counter with a spoon in your hand.

“So after you finish scooping off that foam, we’ll add the hot water and cream in the ramekins and bake it,” Vandy instructed. “Then we’ll fridge it and stop there for tonight.”

“Got it, boss,” you sung, yawning at the end of your statement.

“I’m going to wash these while you do that.”

And then he was off. It was getting late, wasn’t it? This was probably why he saved this dish for Friday night since it took a while to teach with no prior preparation. You yawned again and went to work, pouring hot water and trying not to stumble. Gosh, you were never skipping out on sleep again. You didn’t care how you got to bed next time, you needed to do it.

The smell of the fresh cream made you smile. It sure was starting to smell nice, even prior to baking.

“I’ll open the oven door, let’s go ahead and put it in.”

Vanderwood abandoned the sink to hurry to the big door with you close behind. With a triumphant wave, the mixture was safely tucked in the appliance and he closed the glass.

“Good job today. No spills either,” he teased.

“That was a one-time thing, you know,” you retorted, sticking your tongue out before smiling. “It’s a bit late, do you want to order food again? I still have to pay you back."

“Hm, I’m not that hungry, but we can order something.”

“Oh, I’m not hungry either actually. I was just thinking of you.”

“Ah, well, thank you…”

His eyes shied away and you fiddled with your shirt.

“Do you want to just sit and wait?” you asked.

“Hm, well, I’ll finish washing dishes first, then I’ll join you.”

You nodded and turned to leave the kitchen before pausing. “Actually, is it okay if I just kinda...sit here by the oven? It’s warm.”

“If it’s not too uncomfortable for you, I suppose that’s alright…”

“Okay, then I’ll be right here.”

You carefully sat on the cold floor and stretched your legs with a grin on your face. The chill faded away as the heat from the oven beside you warmed your body, seeping quickly into your back.

What a good date.

An _amazing_ date yet again. Were you getting more comfortable around him? Judging by how you behaved before the lesson, probably not, but after speaking with Vanderwood it felt natural again. Hopefully, he wasn’t getting bored of you. You really enjoyed your time with him. The idea of these lessons ending made you sad. But how long was he planning to entertain you like this? If you wanted to have a friendship - an actual one outside the bakery - you probably should ask him out on a _real_ date, huh?

_Hah._

Yeah, right, like you were brave enough to actually do that! You closed your eyes and scooted against the cupboard at your back. Things were fine as they were, right? It was hard to tell.

You closed your eyes, listening to the distant sound of water and scrubbing.

Before long, you’d fallen asleep again. Vanderwood gingerly checked the timer - 30 more minutes left to bake - and sighed, standing over you with his hands on his hips. Would it be weird to sit next to you? Well, maybe you’d be frightened if you woke up in an empty kitchen. In your best interest, he slid beside you and watched your peaceful face.

You sure had slept a lot today. When you came into the bakery hours ahead of schedule, he wondered if you were going to tell him you were canceling today’s date. But then you said nothing at all, hiding behind a menu as if his trained eyes didn’t notice every single person that passed through his doors. Vanderwood wasn’t sure if your silence made him feel better or worse, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask about it in the end.

“Sleepyhead,” he murmured.

You stirred and your head drooped to his shoulder. Uh oh. Uh?!

As if seeking his warmth, you snuggled even closer and a smile played on your lips. Vanderwood froze, feeling sweat start to bead at his neck. He was being burned alive. But he was too scared to move, anyway.

You whined lightly and he felt a single shiver from your body. Were you really that cold?

He should leave, get you a blanket or jacket or something...right?

But then he might wake you. In your best interest, a timid hand rolled over your shoulder. He could lend you his warmth, he didn’t need it. You stopped shivering and he squeezed you a little closer, breathing in the inviting floral scent that was uniquely you. And still, you snuggled even closer. Definitely cold. Definitely doing it for you.

He closed his eyes and let his arm relax. He was doing you a favor, so he could get comfortable, right? In your best interest, Vanderwood silently listened to your soft breathing for the next 28 minutes, thinking nothing in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @Lokiiwood  
> Oops I have a Tumblr by the same name;; it's an option too, I just migrated in The Great Tumblr Exodus and don't check it as often anymore!
> 
> If you liked this, please leave a comment, I really appreciate them and like to know what people are actually enjoying haha (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


	5. Broken Phones / Caramel Popcorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven and Seven 2.0 are a little too supportive of Vanderwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting posted a little earlier than usual and so might the next because I'll be preoccupied around my usual time. <3 Enjoy!

Vanderwood groaned as his phone beeped and lit up. Was it morning already? The gentle light breathing over his eyelids was coming from beneath his door (no windows, they make him nervous). But it also meant he wasn’t sure if he slept in or not. It sure didn’t feel like it, so who the hell was messaging him this early? If Seven or his troll of a wife were messing with him again he’d - he’d - damn, he didn’t know _what_ he’d actually do. But he’d be mad.

A lazy hand pinched his phone and held it over his squinting face.

“Sure! How about my place?”

What.

He rubbed his eyes and quickly sat up, double-checking it was indeed you who sent him that text. Did you mistakenly message him? He scrolled back up to last night -

“Got home safe. <3 Sorry about falling asleep lol.”

“Not a problem. Rest well.”

Okay, he remembered that exchange. So then what were these other messages?

“Sorry to message you about this so early. How do you feel about leaving the bakery for a movie date? I don’t watch them often.”

“Oh! Yeah, that’d be really cool, sure.”

“How about this afternoon?”

“Awesomeeeeee~”

“Would it be okay if we didn’t go to a theater? They make me nervous.”

“Sure! How about my place?”

Vanderwood launched his phone to the other side of the room. No. No. _No!_

He did _not_ send those god damn messages - but they were on his phone - and you’d been responding to them - and enthusiastically? Oh hell.

Heart attacking his chest, he stumbled out of bed, nearly tripping over his covers, and tried to assess the situation. Text messages. A date. Going to your house. Oh _hell_.

No.

He grabbed the taser from under his pillow and felt his body slow, concentrating on his surroundings with an intent to kill.

As he kicked the bedroom door open, he heard pounding footsteps and turned to see a frantic MC2, her hands raised in surrender. She must’ve picked that up from her husband.

“You-!” he started.

“-He’s already left the house on business! He told me you might be mad when you wake up, but not to worry cause you’ll have fun?”

Vanderwood glared at her. Was she a co-conspirator? Was she not? Maybe he could tase her and feel better about it anyway. You know, on principle.

“And he said not to tase me or he’d send something worse,” she added.

They had a staring contest, the taser still ready in his itching hand. Definitely a co-conspirator. But tasing her wouldn’t solve anything. Seven’s threat normally wouldn’t phase him, considering that anything he did Vanderwood could do and include broken bones. But Seven knew that. The difference...was you were involved. He already had to get through this... _situation_ with you.

“Don’t...talk to me,” he decided on, storming back into his room and shutting the door. He listened to her walk away before scanning the room for his phone. Damn, why’d he have to throw it? What was he, a child? Why did this even bug him this much?

He picked it up to inspect. Cracks. He’d have to fix it. They had most of the materials already, it wouldn’t be too much effort.

With a sigh, Vanderwood clicked the phone awake again to look at the messages. Damn. It’d been nearly an hour since your last text. Seen and not responded. Would you think he was feeling apprehensive?

Timidly, he hovered over the keyboard. There was still time to cancel. No - it’d be obvious he only canceled because he didn’t want to go over to your house. But if he followed through on it and told you it was a prank, you’d feel awkward. That is if you even believed it was a prank. Would you be able to trust the messages between you two were private after? He certainly wouldn’t. Gah. Fine.

A white lie it is.

“Sure.”

That was the first step, now to figure out what he should be doing to prepare. A house? A date? Oh shit, was this an actual, real date? He scrolled back up. Yes, Seven had used the word ‘date.’ But with you, the lessons had been ‘dates’ too. Wasn’t this skipping a few steps?! A woman’s house, alone with her…

Vanderwood began pacing, every few seconds looking at the phone again. No way you would’ve offered up your home on the first ‘date’ if you thought this was going to be a real, asking out procedure. Right? So he shouldn’t panic. You were both going to enjoy a movie, and all he had to do was not slip up and get kicked out.

The phone beeped and he almost fumbled it, squeezing it in his hand as he read the text.

“How about 7?”

Taking a deep breath, he nodded as he typed back. “Sure. I’ll be there at 19:00.”

“^^ okay see you tonight!”

He gently put the phone on the bed before running his hands through his hair. So this was happening. A date...going into your house. He’d been on plenty of dates before. Vanderwood was a master of social gatherings and seduction, he’d been trained in it all. But this wasn’t a mission. There was no purpose in gathering dirt on you. So what the hell was he supposed to do then?

And also concerning...what would you look like outside of your office clothes? Would you wear jeans and a t-shirt? Perhaps a tracksuit? What if you wore a skirt...what if it was a short skirt? Ah! Where was he even going with that thought? Vanderwood opened up his closet and stared at his clothing. After the Agency was taken down, he’d thrown out so much of his belongings, even the ones he liked. They’d all been tarnished with bad memories. But he’d been rebuilding slowly, experimenting with fashion choices he enjoyed but weren’t conducive to ‘hiding.’

He pulled out a jacket, similar to his usual but with leopard trim on the outside lining instead of just the inside. He could wear that. Vanderwood threw it on as he continued to search, feeling his body getting cold. But what about his top? He didn’t want to look _too_ casual. No, but he couldn’t dress up either. This was a casual date. Arg.

This was too bright. This was too dark. This was too long. This was too short. Would this give a bad impression? Was this too fashionable?

“Vandawoohoo!”

Her voice made him jump and toss down the shoe he was holding, dashing to the door and throwing it open. “ _What_?”

Seven 2.0 grinned up at him, opening her mouth to say something before peeking under his arm.

“Ooh!”

“Hey!”

But she was already in his personal space, grinning like a toddler at the mess on his closet floor as she sunk to her knees. “Are you really going on a date, then?”

_Seven!_

“N-....well, yes, but only because of your idiot husband. It’s a fake date. I didn’t ask for it.”

“How is it fake? You’re going on it, aren’t you?”

She picked up a shirt and inspected it.

“Don’t touch my things, she-demon,” he groaned.

“Let me help! Cupcake Girl likes you and you like her, right?”

“T-that’s...no! Neither of us has said anything like that!”

“No need to be so defensive~” She glanced up at him to give a knowing smile and he only frowned further. Meddling! Troublesome! _Annoying_!

“I’m not being defensive. If you would so kindly leave before I ma-”

“How about this one?”

She held up a plain, long-sleeved purple shirt.

“H-huh? Why that one?”

It was one of the few things he kept from before. It was a simple, comfortable shirt and the one he wore on the day Seven and his life changed. It always felt nice on his skin and fit him well, so he never could bring himself to get rid of it. But he also didn’t wear it often either.

“It’s the first date you’re going on with someone you like. You should be comfortable, wear something that makes you feel confident.”

“Hmm...your logic seems sound, somehow.”

She giggled and stood up with it. “And it shows off your arm muscles. Don’t flex too hard for her, yeah?”

“Get. Out.”

She laughed and threw the shirt at him before running off. He sighed and ran a thumb over the fabric, turning it over in his hands. It was a little faded, but...there was no harm in comfort. He put all his tossed clothes back and hung his outfit for the day. But...the skirt. What if you wore a skirt? Vanderwood exhaled and eyed his bed. He didn’t want to have to do it, but maybe...he should prepare for the worst. Just a little bit more…rest. The last thing he wanted was to be...excited on his date.

You’d sent your address, but he didn’t need it. He remembered where you lived - very clearly, in fact. But he thanked you anyway. It was 18:55. He was too early, so he paced a street down. There was a park here, illuminated peacefully under streetlights and the few stars that managed to show in the city. What he assumed was a mother and her son sat together chatting on a bench and everything else was relatively quiet.

He wondered if you came here often. There were adult swings and plenty of tables for picnics, even outdoor exercise equipment. What was your childhood like? Did you play outside often? You seemed like a happy person, maybe you were raised properly, maybe you had a...family.

A small smile came to his lips as he imagined what you might look like as a happy, healthy, younger version of yourself. You were probably adorable and had a sweet tooth that you never grew out of. Vanderwood shook his head and checked his wristwatch again. 18:59. He quickly walked back up to your street, clutching a grocery bag in his fists as your apartment door came into view.

But then he stopped. Damn. It was a lot less intimidating thinking of you as a child than the grown woman you were. It was a movie. Just a movie. He knocked on the door and heard thumping feet approach. Then silence. A second later, the door slowly opened.

“H-hey Vanderwood! Come on in, you’re just on time!”

Your hair was looser than normal, not in the tight ponytail or up-do you usually had for the office. Clenching the bag even tighter, he used his other hand to wave. “Yeah. Hey. How are you?”

“Fine!” you blurted out, stepping to the side and letting him in to remove his shoes.

“Oh! What’s that in your hand?”

Stepping properly on the floor, he held it open for you to look inside. “Well, I didn’t want to come empty-handed, so I brought some ingredients for making our own popcorn. A-assuming you like popcorn? Sorry, I should’ve asked.”

Bumbling fool! Inconsiderate oaf!

“I love popcorn! You mean, we pop it ourselves?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, relieved. “I brought ingredients to make regular butter popcorn, but also caramel and parmesan ranch.”

Your eyes widened as you looked over at the contents. “Wow, Vanderwood, you’re amazing. This will be so fun! Here, I’ll go put this in the kitchen. You can go sit on the couch and start looking at the DVDs I put on the table over there.”

You nodded towards a living room area, where you both would be watching assumedly, and dashed off into the kitchen. Okay, step one down. He hadn’t embarrassed himself yet. He could do this. He sunk down on the couch and peeked over at you in the kitchen.

He avoided looking at your outfit in case he fail step one, but now that he had the opportunity...damn it was really cute! You wore something casual and comfortable as he did, but it was a short-sleeved shirt with a low v-neck and shorts. But the shorts were _short_ and hung fluidly off your hips.

Ah, damn. He quickly turned back to the DVDs, but he couldn’t see them. The image was burned into his mind now. You’d really prepared it all. Although he only recognized maybe two, by the covers he could tell there was a wide selection of genres. Horror, action, comedy...romance. He was getting a headache. If he chose horror, would it look like he was trying to make you vulnerable? If he chose romance, maybe you’d think that was a come-on all on its own? If he chose some cheesy action movie, he’d just be annoyed at the exaggerations and probably say something ridiculous. So that left...comedy. Maybe comedy was safe. But he probably wouldn’t laugh, wouldn’t that make things awkward?

Vanderwood’s nostrils flared as he silently laughed at himself. This was absurd. It was a damn movie. Did it really matter? You were the one who chose these, right? You wouldn’t own them and offer them if you didn’t like these, right?

“See any you like yet?” you sung.

“Ah...I don’t know most of these, but they look interesting,” he called back. Not exactly a lie, this one with a chainsaw he recognized as a common Halloween piece. It must be famous.

“Wha?!”

He raised a confused eyebrow as you came running over, looking towards the DVD in his hand.

“You’ve never seen Texas Chainsaw Butcher?”

“No. I’ve heard of it though.”

You gasped and quickly pointed out another DVD. “What about Plane to Busan?”

“Never heard of it.”

“Never...but it’s Korean! It did well. You really haven’t?”

He turned it to the back cover and skimmed over the contents, finally relenting with a shake of his head.

“Well, this is good then!”

The sudden tone of voice change made him blink.

“That means it’ll be new and exciting for you. I guess I’m not too shocked you haven’t seen many movies. You never really talked about them before.”

“I guess not,” he hummed. “So...maybe you should pick.”

You grinned and looked over the DVDs. “Yeah, sure! What genre are you up for tonight?”

None. None whatsoever. He’d rather just sit here on your couch and gaze into your eyes all night. But it’s not like he could say that without wanting to bang his head into a wall immediately after. Your hands rested on your hips as you cocked your head to the side.

“Vandy?”

“Um...really, I don’t have any particular genre I like. I’ll be happy if you share with me something you enjoy.”

You quickly turned around, a hand covering your mouth.

“W-what?”

“Nothing, you’re just like like - ah! You know?”

“I’m like...ah?”

With a laugh, you shook your head before facing him again. You joined him on the couch with a plop and reached a gentle hand forward to touch his jacket, which he promptly tried to ignore as anything but a friendly gesture that wasn’t sending his blood pressure spiking.

“This is a really nice jacket. Looks expensive.”

“Not too much,” he lied. “But thanks.”

“Mhmm. Oh, here, I’ll go hang it by the door. Sorry.”

“Huh? No, it’s fine, I’ll do it. You can just pick the movie.”

“Alright, if you want to.”

He nodded as he got up and returned to the door, stripping off his jacket and hanging it on the available hook.

Vanderwood turned around to you still watching him.

“What? Wrong hook?”

“You - uh - really work out, huh?”

Damn. Why did he listen to Seven 2.0 and wear this stupid shirt?

“Oh, i-is my shirt too tight?”

“No,” you blurted out. “Not at all.”

Maybe women had a different definition of ‘too tight.’ But he didn’t question it, especially when you peered over the movies and finally picked one up.

“Please tell me you’ve seen the classic movie Twilighter?”

“Sorry, what?”

He sat back on the couch and peered at the cover. A woman, an incredibly pale man, and another shirtless one surrounded by wolves stood staring straight ahead while in the background a moon hung high.

“Is this an action movie?”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my god...Vandy, you don’t know what this is?”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“You k-know,” you stuttered through your laughs, “T-the one with the v-vampires and the w-werewolves?”

He had no idea what you were talking about but now he was grateful because his ignorance was making you laugh like this. Infectious.

He felt his lips curling but could do nothing about it. “No. I really don’t. Apparently, it’s famous because you’re laughing at me.”

“I’m sorry - I’m sorry!” you continued to giggle, putting the movie down and trying to muffle yourself.

He didn't want you to stop, he wanted to hear it all. His hand reached towards you but upon realizing what he was doing, he moved it to land on the DVD instead.

“Let’s watch it then.”

“Mm!” you wheezed through your hand as you finally calmed down. You took the DVD and walked over to the player as you continued to quietly chuckle the last of it. It pained him to hear your laughter fade out.

Damn. He sure was in deep, wasn’t he?

“Oh, how did you break your phone?”

“I dropped it,” he quickly lied, hiding it deeper in his pocket.

“Ah, I know a place that does good repairs if you want it.”

“It's alright, I'm going to fix it myself.”

“Wow, you can do everything, huh?”

The undeserved admiration in your smile made him turn away.

Vanderwood didn’t know what to make of the movie, it was definitely a product of its time despite the high quality remaster you had. But it was charming, despite how confusing the decision-making was from the main characters.

It was hard to enjoy for entirely external reasons.

Your shorts kept riding up as you shifted on the couch, moving during exciting scenes or when you both paused to make and experiment with more popcorn or even when you tried to presumably get more comfortable.

He was never comfortable, especially when your thigh touched to his for a solid ten minutes. Yes, he counted. And no, he had no idea what happened during the movie during that time.

But he made sure to keep his eyes focused, only affording himself the luxury of peeking when you asked him specific questions. He even moved away when you accidentally brushed him to encourage himself to keep his hands to himself.

By the time the movie ended, it was dark outside and you’d grown incredibly quiet. Now he worried as the credits rolled when you both didn’t move from your positions. Did you actually enjoy the credits? He supposed it was respectful of you so he waited patiently for them to end before speaking.

“I liked it.”

Truth. Though he couldn’t pinpoint why.

“Really?” you said with quiet disbelief.

“Yeah. Oh, are you tired?” he asked, once again affording himself the luxury of looking at your body that was sprawled across the cushions, top exposing a hint of cleavage and stomach.

Vanderwood swallowed, hard.

You sat up slowly and gazed at him, something curious and sheepish in your expression. Maybe you didn’t like the movie?

“A little. Though I guess I c-could be awake for a while,” you smiled gently, eyes looking everywhere but him. “Especially if we watch or d-do something exciting…”

He sighed. Were you really trying to keep yourself awake to be a kind host? That was sweet of you.

Vanderwood shook his head. “It’s alright, no need to force yourself. I should probably be heading back anyway, it’s late.”

You bit your lip and nodded slowly, frowning for just a moment until you smiled up at him.

“Thanks for coming by. I had fun. You’re a good friend.”

_Oh._ He should’ve been happy you dared consider him a friend, but it took the wind out of him. He forced himself to smile back.

“Of course.”

The two of you parted ways amicably enough, awkwardly hovering in the doorway because no one wanted to say goodbye first. The movie was discussed, then the popcorn, then future baking dates, and then a gentle “Let’s do this again sometime.”

He paused down the street to watch your door, wondering if he did something wrong. It was a dreadful feeling in his gut that said he’d failed the mission. Vanderwood recited back everything that happened, what was it that made you go quiet? It was gradual. Had he been caught peeking? No, he was stealthy.

Ugh.

Seven and Seven 2.0 weren’t there when he got back home. He was greeted by darkness and languidly fell into his bed, only bothering to undress before curling into the familiar covers. Something still smelled like popcorn. But he didn’t mind.

A short beep from his phone sent his eyes wide, fingers stumbling to grab and bring it close.

“Home safe?”  
  
He exhaled.  
  
“Yes. Thank you.”  
  
“Ok! Goodnight :)”  
  
“Sweet dreams.”

  
  
He’d never said such a thing before - not without sarcasm and a loaded gun anyway - but it didn’t feel weird to type it to you. Vanderwood stared at the message a little longer before finally putting it back down. He was so used to nightmares or no dreams at all that it was striking when he glided through the dark sky with you, happy in his arms, both of your sparkling skin making for a unique set of stars in the tranquil moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if you liked this, please leave a comment! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


	6. Matching Clothes / Honey Gelato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood's a little overprotective but very sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are like 2(+??) Vanderwood-related zines going on right now...
> 
> can you feel that, Mr. Krabs?
> 
> A reckoning?

“Tell me more about the movie date. Did you two kiss in the theater?”

You didn’t even have the energy to glare at Sunmi who you regretted giving your social media. It was a vague post about going on a movie date, nothing too inspired and meant to be lost in the feed. But here she was, the current Queen of Nosiness, grinning over your desk like this office was a joke. Work? What was that?

But you didn’t vocalize these thoughts, just kept mindlessly clicking words in an email reply you knew you couldn’t send because it was regurgitated nonsense.

“Come _o-n_ , did you or not? Why is he taking it so slow? A hunk like him?”

“I can’t explain where or why, but I know everything you just said is wrong,” you groaned.

Sunmi wasn’t buying it. Her fingers tapped eagerly on your desk as she awaited the fated details.

With a sigh, you finally stopped typing and leaned back in your chair. “We, um, actually did the movie date at my place.”

And there went the squealing.

“Sure, just tell the whole office.” It was meant to be annoyed, but it sounded like a plea for her to shut up. She didn’t though.

Sure enough, there was Amelia suddenly leaning over your cubicle too.

“What’s going on?” she whispered….loudly.

“She had a house date with _you-know-who._ ”

And then Amelia was squealing twice as loud.

“No way. So did you-”

“Yeah? Did you?”

“Nothing happened,” you snapped.

Their cheer snuffed out instantaneously with their frowns of pity.

“Oh...I’m so sorry,” Amelia whispered.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Well, maybe he’s just overly nice? Why don’t you try again?”

“What are you two talking about? The date went great.” You rose from your chair and faced them directly.

They exchanged a look and gave you those disgustingly fake smiles you hated.

“Yes, well, if it went so great then get a second date. We’ll support you.”

“Yeah, I can help you with your text if you want.”

“I do _not_ need help texting my _friend_.”

They gasped and exchanged yet another glance to one another, making you even more frustrated than you already were.

“In fact, I’m going to do it right now.”

You grabbed your phone off the desk and opened up the messaging application, letting your numbed fingers fly across the keyboard and hitting send before you could reign in your impulse control.

They leaned in to read the message: “Hey Vandy! Wanna watch another movie? Just let me know when you’re free :)”

They hummed and Amelia tapped a finger to her chin. “Hm, friendly and to-the-point. It’s a rather good text, actually.”

Sunmi nodded, squinting at the phone before drawing back with a satisfied smile. “Yeah, it is. I think our MC here will be just fine. But uh, you can always give me his number, too. I can be a great wing woman.”

You both rolled your eyes and didn’t respond.

Sunmi, defeated, huffed and left with Amelia back to their respective desks.

The workday was uneventful. You told yourself the boredom was why you kept checking your phone for a reply that didn’t come for the rest of the day. Discomfort bloomed in your chest as you listened to imagined ticks of a clock in your dark bedroom, wondering why it all went wrong so quickly. Vanderwood had never replied so slowly. He could just be busy.

It could just be you.

Before even realizing it, the bright light of your phone was making you squint as you checked your messages. The last thing he had said was “Sweet dreams.”

A wry smile lit your lips as you stared at it. Were you looking too much into it? Was it easy for him to say? Did it mean anything at all to him as it did to you? He was kind and thoughtful, but was he the type to sweet-talk? Doubtful. But…

With renewed hope, you stared at his wishes for your sweet dreams until your eyes had closed to fulfill them.

You woke up to a new message, but couldn’t bring yourself to check it. Your heart squeezed your chest, bit-by-bit, as you made your way around your home – brushing your teeth, washing your face, picking up yesterday’s clothes…

Until your heart gave out. Rushing back to your phone, you swallowed your pride and slowly opened it up.

“The movies will always be there. Let’s go out somewhere. There’s a new park we can try, too.”

He wanted to go out again. But he didn’t want to come over? You were right.

He was uncomfortable being alone with you in your house. And it was all your fault. You shouldn’t have tried to so _naively_ seduce him. What was this? A teenage romance? Of course he wasn’t going to suddenly fall in love with you over your stupid, old shorts. Vanderwood was classy and you – urgh! Guilt made you shut the screen back off without a reply.

And you lied to your coworkers when they asked if you were going on another movie date. But your confirmation made them easily scatter too quickly to even regret the hasty and childish lie.

Well, at the very least it was a source of motivation to try. You held onto the small bout of optimism in your chest that told you Vanderwood simply wanted to try more things with you and he wasn’t avoiding being in your home. That’s all it was, you thought with a smile.

“Hey.”

Your cheeks were already burning as Vanderwood waited outside your home, dressed again in casual clothes that made him look overly attractive. How was it even possible? A black V-neck t-shirt with a leopard-colored paw print pocket, white jeans, and an expensive-looking suede jacket tied around his waist made him look like a pop star. Your own outfit suddenly felt inadequate in comparison.

Could he even be seen outside with you?

Vanderwood shifted from where he waited by the stairs.

“Um – you, uh, look nice. We match…”

“Oh…” A cursory glance saw that you, too, were dressed in white and black.

“Oh, i-is that okay?” he said hesitantly.

Okay? Oh… Oh!

A couple, in public.

“It’s fine.”

A small smile graced his face as he turned his focus away. “Cool.”

He wasn’t happy to be matching, was he? Better not push your luck today.

“You look nice too,” you nodded, trying to at least be cordial.

“Mm…thanks,” he mumbled. “This way is the most efficient.”

“Oh? Alright…”

So you followed your ‘date’ on the shortcut to the new park, taking roads you’d never walked on while Vanderwood physically shielded you from anyone who crossed paths on the sidewalk. Strange, but sweet. He did have all those security cameras, maybe he was the cautious type. The confusion was quickly forgotten as the sudden, giant green lawn appeared around a corner.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” you awed.

While the previous street seemed almost deserted, this place was packed with all sorts of groups – older friends, young and old couples, children, families…and you two, in matching outfits. Two women wearing all-white with black shoes caught your gaze and giggled, pointing at you and Vanderwood and giving a thumbs up before continuing along.

Feeling giddy, you looked up to see his eyes carefully scanning the entire place before resting back on you.

Immediately, he snapped his head away.

“So – uh – was there anything in particular you wanted to do first?”

“We can just walk around first if you like?”

“Yeah, good. Can get a better assessment that way.”

“Assessment?”

Vanderwood blinked down at you before shrugging his shoulders lightly. “Sorry, I – uh – just meant once we see something, we can find something we like.”

“Oh, right,” you smiled.

Shoulder-to-shoulder, you led Vanderwood around the outskirts of the park, stopping to smell the many treats that floated around food stalls.

“Do you want to try that?”

Vanderwood suddenly asked, pointing at a gelato stand with…honey. You hadn’t noticed it before.

“Sounds interesting.”

“Okay, one sec.”

Before you could even protest, Vanderwood slinked through the crowd like a cat. Wow, fast.

Timidly, you waited a minute before deciding to just meet him at the stall.

“Oh!”

A large shoulder shoved into you, following after a ball. No, your white clothes! A single arm caught you before you could even touch the grass, solid muscle and no effort to bring you up to your feet again.

“Thank you, si…”

Your voice trailed as you gazed up at Vanderwood, the ice cream cup firmly in his free hand and the other still around your waist.

Solid muscle. Waist. Arm.

“You okay, MC? You’re not hurt, are you?”

_My heart is._

“Uh…”

He waited patiently, furrowed brows trailing over your body and making it heat up even further. You quickly pried yourself away and jerked your head ‘yes’ instead of answering.

He smiled again and exhaled.

“Here’s your ice cream.”

“Oh, thank you…”

He handed it over and looked behind you.

“The green shirt, right?”

“Hm?”

The first scoop was already in your mouth as you turned to follow his gaze. Oh, yeah that was the one who pushed you. But you were reluctant to admit it. Why did he want to know?

Vanderwood gently tugged your own shirt fully back down from where he had grabbed your waist and you froze. “Hope I wasn’t too rough. Sorry. I’ll be right back, okay?”

You couldn’t even nod, trying to process how preciously he had touched you as the gelato melted in your warm mouth. The honey? An excellent touch. Could Vanderwood make gelato? Somehow, you bet he could.

“Excuse me!”

A man rushed in front of you and bowed. Green shirt! The one who’d pushed you!

“I’m really sorry about pushing you. I’ll be more careful.”

“Oh…yes, it’s okay…”

You hadn’t finished your reply before he ran off in the opposite direction, replaced by a bored-looking Vanderwood.

“How’s the ice cream?”

“It’s…really good. Do you want to try it?”

You had already scooped the next bite and motioned toward it.

Vanderwood’s face went red as he stared at the spoon in your hand. Huh? Did you do something wrong?

“U-uh…sure…”

Hesitantly, he bent over and put his mouth over the spoon.

_Oh. God._

Your own cheeks flushed with the realization you probably looked like you meant to feed him, and he’d simply complied with your wishes.

“It’s…good.”

He said the words so softly you barely heard them.

“Y-yeah.”

You fed Vanderwood! You _fed_ Vanderwood! You fed him in _matching clothes_!

For a moment, your shock became anger. How were you two the cutest couple when you weren’t even a couple! This was so unfair, did he have any idea what he did to you? There was no possible way he could. The optimism that Vanderwood wasn’t avoiding you flared instantly, pushing out the last of your doubts. Vanderwood had to like you – at least as a good friend, right?

You wanted to get to know him. You wanted to justify this attraction to this kind man who you’d just fed gelato. You wanted to feel like Vanderwood wouldn’t mind another movie date. And like all bright lights, it was quickly snuffed out. Mentioning your home in casual context was met with leads into non-personal questions.

“That’s funny, it looks like my couch. You know, the one you dropped popcorn into,” you had pointed out to the odd-shaped bench that resembled a sofa.

“Apologies. Hm, I wonder if there’s a general theme of making the structures resemble inside furniture to invoke a feeling of comfort?”

Even bringing up film gave you half-answers.

“Oh, they’ll be showing classic films here next week. Would you be interested?”

“It depends. There’s not a lot of electrical infrastructures here, I’m sure it’s an inefficient location. I wonder if it’s meant to advertise the park?”

You weren’t sure how he was doing it or if it was on purpose, but Vanderwood was _very_ good at not answering questions about himself. You weren’t sure how you never noticed before.

The ‘date’ should’ve been wonderful. He paid for everything despite your insistence that he didn’t.

Instead, he requested you pay him back by leading him and intercepting the various dogs that were drawn to him. Vanderwood was a gentleman. He’d been knowledgeable about strange things and made you laugh.

It was a perfect date - no, friendly outing - and you couldn’t enjoy it.

“Hey, are you Vanderwood?”

A burly woman paused her participation in a group yoga to jog up to the two of you.

“Oh, you are! I just wanted to thank you. One time you saw my kid crying and gave us an extra cookie. Shut him up all day.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” he responded politely.

“Hah, well it was a huge one at the time. I’ll leave you and your girlfriend to your date then.”

“Thank you.”

No comment on the girlfriend part? You peeked up at his face but he was already moving on.

“Dog.”

“Got it.”

You moved in the way of yet another dog that bound over to him. It barked for a moment, then skipped off. Another peek at his disgruntled face sent you giggling.

“Why don’t you just accept their love?” you teased. “I’m jealous.”

“No need to be jealous.”

Your carefree smile faded from the seriousness in his reply. What did that even mean?

“Vand-?”

“It’s getting late.”

“Oh…yeah.”

Your curiosity was swallowed away as the first gulps of the night’s cool brushed against your tongue.

“Do you want to call a taxi?”

A taxi would mean getting home faster.

“No, I can walk.”

So you did. Even though the sky was darkening, the shadows on the unfamiliar streets didn’t feel so ominous with Vanderwood at your side. He who’d protected you several times throughout the day. You wondered if he even realized what he was doing as he continuously checked around for anyone coming remotely in your direction.

“Watch your step.”

“Oh…”

Your feet stopped in front of the broken sidewalk. Would the overprotective Vanderwood help you with even this? Hmm…

“Here,” he said, offering his arm.

_Holy cow he would._

And yet you were too excited to feel guilty. You took his arm and let him help you over the cracks. But you didn’t let go, not even as you continued down more unfamiliar streets, not when they became your neighborhood streets, and not even up your apartment stairs.

You both hesitated in your doorway. Bittersweet nostalgia made you quiet as you both awkwardly and silently shuffled in place. All you had to say was goodbye. It was a great day and you’d see him again soon.

“So-”

“Hey-”

You both chuckled and Vanderwood cleared his throat. “You first.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t important.”

“Oh, well,” Vanderwood trailed off. Briefly, his eyes eluded yours before he met your gaze again. “I was just wondering if you were alright.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“You seemed distracted today. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You clenched your fists behind your back. Great, now you made him worry over nothing. This was juvenile behavior.

“I’m fine, really. Sorry for being distracted. That was rude of me.”

Vanderwood studied your face a moment before giving a disarming smile. You were so stunned you didn’t notice he had leaned in until his hands were bringing yours forward.

He eased open your fists and you felt something shiver down your spine and something else flutter in your stomach. His warm hands left yours and he shrugged.

“Balling your hands is stress behavior. If you’re stressed or distracted, I’d rather you tell me than force yourself. There’s no point if it’s not fun for both of us.”

“Oh.”

It was all you could manage to say, blinking at him and feeling like an idiot for it.

“W-well,” he hummed, his brilliant smile quickly replaced by his usual flat line, “Then I’ll be off. Goodnight.”

“Wait!”

He hadn’t even made his first step back when you basically shouted at him. Darnit!

“Y-yes?”

“I - uh - did you not like the movie date?”

It was Vanderwood’s turn to blink at you. “What? Why do you think I didn’t like it?”

You could practically see the gears turning in his head. Were you wrong about him?

“Um, you wouldn’t look at me and you hardly talked. I mean, i-it’s fine, you don’t have to come over anymore, we can keep going out, I was just wondering...I guess.”

Not wondering, obsessing over. And now it was obvious with the way you babbled on about it.

“That’s not...uh, that’s not it. I enjoyed myself. Really.”

You forced your hands to stay relaxed instead of clenching them again even though it felt like the right thing to do.

“Y-yeah?”

“I just...uhm, sorry. I didn’t want to overstep any, uhm…” Vanderwood sighed and looked away. “I d-didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. I would never want to, uh, make you uncomfortable.”

He met your eyes again and you weren’t sure what you were looking at - guilt, regret, a silent plea for you to understand.

And you did.

A smile broke out across your lips. “Thanks.”

“Yup.”

More awkward shuffling.

“Well-”

“Okay-”

Vanderwood visibly relaxed as you both laughed again.

“You first,” he nodded.

“No way,” you huffed. “It’s been ‘me’ all day. You always let me choose.”

“What? That’s not true. I - uh - choose what we bake.”

“Only to accommodate me.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t count.”

“Sure it does. I choose the food when we eat together, I chose the movie, I even chose to watch it in my house.”

“Does it matter if we’re not even?”

“Yes.”

“Gah, what, are we supposed to watch a movie at my house instead?”

“Sure.”

“Oh.”

Vanderwood clammed up and scratched at his head, frowning as he thought something over.

“Taking it back, Vandy?” you snickered.

“N-no, of course not. I - uh - well, let’s decide a time later.”

“Okay.”

“Uh, s-so goodnight, MC.”

“Sweet dreams, Vanderwood.”

He jerked a nod and turned around without another word, jamming his hands in his pockets as he quickly made his way down the sidewalk. You fumbled with the door, too focused on his back, before entering your apartment and closing it behind you.

Curious, you continued to watch him quickly disappear through your window. Did he look back? Hm...it was probably your imagination. You’d never know. But…you _did_ see the wagging tail of his latest pursuer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @Lokiiwood
> 
> dogdogdogdogdogdogdog if you liked this, please leave a comment woofwoofwoofwoofwoof (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> bow wow wow...yippee yo..yippee aye..wh e r e my do g s AT COME WITH ME NOW


	7. Agent Boundaries / Chicken Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Vanderwood's turn to host the movie date, things go about as expected.

Vanderwood was sweating. Except there was no way he exerted himself enough to sweat. He glared at the vacuum in his hands, wondering if it was broken. Was the heat of it getting to him? But he worked in a kitchen by an oven all day, how did a meager vacuum make him sweat?

Irritated, he rushed to unplug it and fiddled with the chord as he gazed around the room. He had to have cleaned it thrice over already. There was no dust left to get. Vanderwood sighed and checked his watch. Damn. He’d been cleaning since 6 am, how was it already 4 pm?

He continued to curse himself as he went to the kitchen, slipping emergency instant coffee into the maker and pressing the start button. A thump from the living room made him jump and then pivot, one hand already on the taser hidden in his apron.

No one. Not an intruder nor Seven nor his wife. The vacuum, however, lay fallen on the floor. Vanderwood exhaled, letting go of the weapon and forcing himself to sit and calm down on the couch as his coffee brewed.

He only had an hour and then you’d arrive with your DVDs. Vanderwood felt stuck - that look in your eyes was unmistakable. You were hurt by the way he avoided you from the last movie date. But gods, that’s only because you didn’t know what you _did_ to him. If you had a clue, you’d be thanking him for not drooling over your thighs like a teenager.

Vanderwood ruffled his hair, wondering what was wrong with him. He made sure to schedule this ‘date’ day Seven and his wife would be out of town. They’d have the house to themselves and that should’ve made him relax, but without the familiar background noise of two troublemakers he felt incredibly alone and self-conscious. That, of course, only irritated him more. He definitely had lived here too long. He should’ve left long before Saeran gave him the idea.

_Ding!_

Vanderwood jumped again as the coffee maker alerted him it was finished. Hopefully, you wouldn’t notice how weird he was today. His feet dragged him over to the fresh cup and he inhaled the smell of smokey brown, letting it relax him in whatever small way it could.

But it was too hot to drink. Instead, anxious hands continued to put away the miscellaneous cleaning items scattered around the house. Vanderwood paused as he passed his bedroom. It was always clean but he’d made sure to dust and fix the dent in his wall from when he threw his phone.

...It wasn’t like you’d end up near his room though! It was something he had to do anyway and had nothing to do with you.

He muttered to himself as he returned to the kitchen to sip on the still-cooling liquid. He shouldn’t be dreading this. He should be happy. And this time he wouldn’t look away.

The doorbell rang right on time and Vanderwood hesitated to open the door. He could see you on his phone through the security camera, watching you fidget with your dress and hair and enjoying it too much to stop. It wasn’t until you tried knocking that he realized you were waiting for him to let you in.

"Vandy! Oh...were you cooking?"

"Huh?"

You hid your smile behind your hand and pointed at his chest. "Uhm, your…"

He looked down to see the bright colors of his apron still wrapped tightly around his torso.

"I-it's not mine! I wasn't - I mean it _is_ mine but it was a gift. Just - come in."

He stiffly stood to the side and gestured for you to enter which you happily did, still eyeing the apron with a grin on your lips.

"Was it a gift from Seaeyoung?"

He shook his head, grumbling as he hastened to undo the knots.

"No…damn wife…"

"W-wife?"

The apron fell along with his mouth. "N-no! Never! Not my wife, God no, that's…"

Vanderwood snatched the fallen apron from the floor and used it to hide his face as he rushed past you.

"Anyway! Uhm, make yourself at home. What do you want to drink? I have various juice, water, and...beer."

He took his time around the corner of the hallway, clutching the apron instead of dropping it in the laundry basket. Why was he so awkward? His racing heart told him there was no way he could properly face you despite his confidence from only an hour ago. Where did it go? For a moment his whirling mind wished his embarrassment was corporeal so he could fight it.

“Hm - juice is fine,” you decided. “Wow, it’s so clean in here! It doesn’t even look like someone lives here.”

_If only._

“Thanks.”

He exhaled and hurried to the kitchen to prepare your drink, hand swinging open the fridge door and enjoying the gust of cool air on his hot skin.

“What kind of juice do you have?”

“Hm? Oh, blends.”

He glanced over his shoulder to see you watching him from your seat on the couch. With a very nice smile on your face. Vanderwood’s head jerked away.

“Oh, yeah? What brand?”

“Oh - I make them myself.”

“What? From actual fruit? From scratch?”

“Mm, yes...I have…” he trailed off as he heard you practically running to join him in the kitchen.

“You’re so cool! Wow, look at this!”

You stared into the fridge, reading the labels on the several containers. “Apple-banana, orange-kiwi, strawberry-melon, and...oh, watermelon berry blend? Vandy…”

Your head raised to look him in the eyes, wonder making you glow. “You’re amazing.”

Were you doing this on purpose? There was no way someone could be so cruel and yet...here he was, wanting to show you the door because his body was humming with vicious and warm electricity. He wanted to tell you that your lips probably tasted better but he’d rather tase himself.

“So...which one do you want?” he half-whispered.

“Hmm, I guess the berry blend? Sounds interesting.”

“Okay - well, you can pick a movie and I’ll pour our glasses.”

“Roger that!”

You skipped away, taking your warmth with you. _It was an innocent phrase, Vanderwood_. He was ashamed of himself for the brief moment of panic and suspicion and tried to push it away as he poured the two glasses of ice and juice.

The glasses were set on the table and you proudly held up your chosen DVD.

“Dames Bond!”

“Alright.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t know who-”

“Nope.”

With a giggle you flipped the case to its back, pointing at the rather blurry action snapshots. “Dames Bond is a famous British spy series adapted from novels. She’s suave and cool and sexy and badass! So many other series were inspired by her or copycats. Very, _very_ influential.”

It sounded like a terrible idea after his paranoid slip-up from not even a minute ago…but he’d be damned if he could deny you something with that excitement plastered all over your face.

“Sounds good,” he lied.

He took the DVD and walked toward the ‘smart’ TV before pausing. Wait…

They didn’t have a DVD player. Only Seven kept one in his ‘secret room’ to keep sensitive information leftover from their previous...occupations. It was a four-way decision between him, Saeran, and the two married goofballs. No one liked seeing the contraption, not with all the associated memories of why it was around in the first place.

“Wait, where’s the DVD player?”

He slowly turned back and set down the case. “...I forgot I don’t have one. Give me a moment? I’ll find it for us. I just need five minutes.”

“H-huh? Five? But it’s hard to find, it’s the first in the Dames Bond series.”

He gave his best-relaxed smile. “I’ll be right back. Promise.”

“Oh...o-okay. Yeah.”

With a silent sigh, Vanderwood slipped inside his room and locked the door. You would probably find it strange but he couldn’t risk you seeing what he was doing. Five minutes, huh? He would probably only need three, but judging by your reaction he should probably wait out the five.

He opened his closet and pushed aside hanging clothes to reveal the small box on the floor. He bent down to open it and fished for the flash drive he needed - silver with black circles. Ah! Vanderwood rushed to the laptop sitting neatly in its case at the foot of his bed and beeped in the password.

No, oops, that was his other laptop’s case. Another attempt and it opened. Vanderwood plugged in the flash drive as he waited for the computer to start. An impatient hand danced on his knee and an equally impatient set of eyes kept making their way to his door.

Now for the easy part. The laptop screen was black but Vanderwood knew exactly where to click before typing in the first set of authentication codes. He pressed his thumb to the pad for the second, stared into the camera for the eye verification of the third, and then read over the randomized flash of codewords that told him this hour’s password for the fourth. ‘What was the land of Gd? The color?’ Well obviously it meant Gadolinium, first found by a Swiss man. He typed in “Switzerland, silver” and cursed to himself when it came up with an error. How could he make such a juvenile mistake? He corrected it to “Schweizerische Eidgenossenschaft, silber” and exhaled.

He was in. Easy and fast. Vanderwood pulled up the search browser, only accessed from the flash drive, and typed in ‘Dames Bond,’ quickly scrolling through the options before picking a popular, legitimate service. This was it, right? Yeah, seemed old. He let the program bypass the security’s checks and bandwidth limits, not really caring for any sort of queues or lengthy sign-ups. How unfortunate and ironic would it be if what got him found was something as silly as using his technology for a cheesy spy movie?

And then it was done. It took two minutes and Vanderwood sent the full movie to the living room television. But he still had three minutes to waste.

He should close the screen and…

_Roger that._

Your name was slowly typed into the search bar, but Vanderwood didn’t hit send. It’s not like he hadn’t searched your background before. If he was going to spend time with someone, he didn’t have the luxury of assuming their intentions. But he’d never done anything other than a cursory glance to make sure you didn’t have any shady connections.

He could, though. And he could now if he simply chose to. Vanderwood could simply hit send and find your accounts and links - but maybe even go inside them, _read_ them. It was very tempting. Vanderwood closed his eyes as he mulled over the idea. What a twisted man he was, he didn’t deserve your company. He shut the laptop down and languidly put everything back in its proper place, ending with closing the closet door and staring at it.

He already felt exhausted. Why did he get up so early?

Steeling himself, he opened the door and returned to the living room where you were sipping on your drink and letting your eyes wander.

“Oh!”

Noticing him, you grinned and propped an elbow on the top of the couch. “Couldn’t find it, could you?”

“I did.”

“Huh? Wow, really? Where?”

Vanderwood’s scattered thoughts hadn’t thought of an excuse yet. “Uh - it turns out Saeyoung is a Dames Bond fan. He had the file.”

“Oh, that explains it. He seems like the type, good thing he’s around!”

“Well, he has to be good for something.”

You giggled and he felt himself start to relax, joining you on the couch and booting up the smart TV.

The movie wasn't as bad as he thought, but worse. The graphics were dated, which he wouldn't mind if they weren't so unrealistic. Dames herself had the personality of a fish with the decision making of a cocky child. Everyone was inept at their jobs, incompetent with their authority pipeline, and probably just as useless as general human beings. In this business, such body bags were called 'the front line' or the Agency-specific 'silvers' since that's how much their lives were actually worth.

He missed _Twilighter_ , if only because the stakes were less personal.

"Hey, Vanderwood?"

"Huh?"

"You don't like it, huh?"

Oops. He didn't want to see your disappointed face again but he did promise not to look away tonight.

You were smiling. "I'm not going to get upset. I wanna know what you're thinking as you watch. Please? I'm curious."

_Ah, here you go again._

He glared his eyes at the screen, hoping he wasn't blushing again.

"Well…"

An explosion was going off as Dames Bond fought three against one.

Irritation flashed across his skin again. "I think the combat is too unrealistic, even for a movie. It comes across as so over-the-top, I can't help but feel it's a failed comedy instead of an action."

You laughed. "Oh wow, I wasn't expecting that. Very interesting. Did you study a martial art?"

"Uh. A little, I guess."

“Oh, taekwondo?”

“Mmhm.” Technically not a lie. He could feel your gaze on him and finally returned your gaze.

“Okay, and what else? You don’t look like you’re finished.”

“Uh - no...well, I don’t understand why the bad guy kept Dames alive.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be much of a story otherwise.”

“It was a foolish decision.”

You giggled again. “And what should Dames have done?”

“Are you sure you want to know that?”

He felt himself smiling, already knowing your answer.

“Yes!”

“Even if it’s long?”

“Especially if it’s long.”

Vanderwood chuckled and took a sip of his drink. “Fine. But I warned you.”

He began his long spiel about successful infiltration tactics, only slowing down when he felt himself starting to reveal things that were more personal than theoretical or when you didn’t understand the terms he was using.

The last time he had to explain such things to a total newbie was Seven or an occasional ‘silver.’ He detested it each time. But now, without the added pressure of putting theory into practice, he could muse on the ridiculousness of how such things developed.

As he finished, the weight of his actions finally settled on him. He would never have to do such things again, it truly was all behind him. All this would ever be is a casual conversation. An unfamiliar sense of peace felt like it was dissolving something deep in his chest – so light and free that it almost made him uncomfortable.

“Vandy? Why are you smiling so hard for? Do you really like-”

“Ah! No, sorry.”

“Sorry? Why would you ever apologize for smiling?”

He blinked at you. Why _did_ he apologize?

“No reason. Oh, the movie…”

You both looked back to see the credits rolling.

“Oops.”

Your eyes darted back to each other, the surprise from saying the same thing at the same time widening them. And then more laughter.

“Alright - alright, we can rewind, let me get the food.”

You nodded eagerly, getting the remote and searching for the settings. Vanderwood smiled all the way back to the kitchen. The pot of ginseng chicken soup he’d already prepared in the morning was set over the stove. A light hum left Vanderwood’s mouth as he picked out his nicest ladle and then stirred over the quickly heating food. Briefly, he wondered what it was like to live in a peaceful household with a woman. Domesticity was the term?

Wait.

Vanderwood glared at the pot.

Agent 707.

“Ah!”

This whole time? Was Vanderwood an idiot? Did Seven assume he knew? From Dames Bond? Really? He chose his number to mimic _Dames Bond_?

“Vanderwood? Burn yourself?”

“No!” Ah damn, that came out angrier than intended.

“Do you want me to come help?”

“It’s fine, just another few minutes.”

“Alright…”

Your defeated response faded out and Vanderwood exhaled from his nostrils. “A-actually, I’d like your opinion.”

“Okay!”

And there was the cheer again. You practically skipped to his side in the kitchen and he rolled his eyes with a smile on his face.

“Ohh this smells good.”

“Uh huh. But I want to know if it’s spicy enough or needs some salt.” He may as well.

He lifted the ladle to your mouth and you bit your lip, hesitating. “It’s just us, I don’t mind,” he added.

You took the sip and covered your mouth when you almost laughed. “Ah! This is really good, Vanderwood. You can bake _and_ cook? That hardly seems fair.”

“It’s just soup, I wouldn’t call this recipe particularly hard.”

“But it tastes like something I’d get at a fancy restaurant.”

“Mm,” he mumbled.

“Haha, are you embarrassed?”

“N-no.”

“Surely you must get compliments all the time on your cooking. You own a _bakery._ ”

“I prefer to bake than talk to the customers.”

“Well that’s not true,” you pouted. “You talk to me all the time.”

He didn’t have a rebuttal for that. He didn’t feel like saying ‘You’re my only exception,’ that would probably be weird.

“Just tell me how it tastes,” he insisted instead, spooning another ladleful and pushing it toward your mouth.

“But I-mm!”

Vanderwood laughed through his nose as he pressed the soup into your open mouth. You gulped it down, trying to frown at him but failing miserably.

“I already said it was _good_! That means it’s fine, no changes! Oh my gosh!”

“Ah, so you did,” he smirked. “In that case, let me pour your bowl.”

He began to lift the side of the pot with his free hand, tilting it forward for easier access.

“Woaw! Let me help so you don’t drop it.”

“Huh? Why would I drop it?”

“You’re holding a giant container of soup with one hand?”

“Yeah?”

You frowned at him. Did you think he was weak or something? To make his point, he lifted it completely off the stove and raised a challenging eyebrow.

“You show off,” you laughed. “Please don’t drop it.”

“I’ve never dropped soup.”

“But you could.”

“Impossible.”

“Yeah?” you grinned, inching forward.

“Yeah.”

“Then…”

Your hand gently began to rub his sides and he froze. What the hell were you doing? _What the hell were you doing_? What the-oh, you were trying to tickle him. He didn’t know where his mind had been going but now it made sense.

“I’m not ticklish,” he chuckled, continuing to pour the soup as nonchalantly as possible.

“No way, not at all?”

“Nope.”

Agents like him had too tough skin for things like that.

“Not on your feet or anything either?”

“Nah.”

“Ah, I’m jealous.”

Vanderwood took the two bowls and walked back to the living room, setting them down before spinning on you. You lightly jumped and were completely unprepared for his hand’s revenge. With a squeal you took a step back, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself.

“Ah! Obviously, I’m ticklish!”

“So you are. Just confirming. You know, information confirmation is essential in infiltration.”

“You’re _so_ funny, Vanderwood.”

You both plopped back on the couch and Vanderwood watched you grab the remote to continue rewinding, still chuckling to yourself. Realizing he was staring at the side of your face, he shuffled uncomfortably. A small memory had come to mind.

“Hey…”

“Hm?”

“I may actually be ticklish somewhere...but I’m not sure.”

“Really? Where?”

“Back of my ear, I think.”

You stopped rewinding to turn and look at his face.

“Mm...may I?”

He shrugged, pretending he felt casual about you touching him. You scooted forward on the couch and then hesitated. Timidly, you raised a hand to slide over his left ear. Warm and small and soft. And definitely not defiled with blood and misdeeds.

Vanderwood shivered.

“Oh? It tickles?”

“U-uh no, just, uh, cold,” he lied.

“Oh, haha, okay.”

You moved your fingers over and began to tap them rapidly.

“Anything?” you asked.

“Mm...no.”

“Well, mind if I try the other ear?”

“Sure.”

You smiled again and raised your other hand to his right ear, tapping them in a similar spot.

“Nothing again?” you gasped.

His heart was hammering. He couldn’t even concentrate on what was going on, all he saw was your face trained on his and your two hands on his ears.

“Vandy?”

“Oh, nothing,” he confirmed.

You both continued to stare at each other. This is why he wanted boundaries. You were too beautiful, too warm, too bright -

“MC,” he breathed.

He was going to lose it, he had to be upfront. This whole situation was ridiculous. Vanderwood couldn’t keep doing this, not with how close you were, how warm you were, how you made him _feel_.

“Y-yes?”

“I, uh -”

The door chime made Vanderwood rip his head away. Two sets of eyes met his.

707 and 606?

“Oh ho ho!”

They were in sync today. Their mocking voices and curious eyes told him all he needed. Seven knew. Seven knew somehow and he came home early just to humiliate him.

Vanderwood sprung up from the couch and they immediately ran behind it and past him to the other side of the living room.

“Oh if it isn’t Cupcake!” Seven cooed with feigned and exaggerated surprise.

“Hello! It’s so nice to finally meet you, I’m Six!” Seven 2.0 waved, batting her eyelashes at his...acquaintance?

“Uh, hi…” You stood up awkwardly, giving a polite bow that made him roll his eyes.

“Don’t - ugh. Saeyoung, why are you home?”

“We got bored. We figured we’d have more fun back home,” he grinned back.

Right, right. Vanderwood could read between the lines. Seven just admitted they returned for the entertainment - _him_. But he also knew Vanderwood wouldn’t do anything with you here. Crafty.

The two troublemakers exchanged knowing glances and rushed to your side. Seven picked up the DVD while ‘Six’ admired your top.

“Dames Bond? _The_ Dames Bond?”

“Oh, this is so cute! Where did you get this?”

Shit. Vanderwood’s flimsy lie could fall apart if he didn’t address it. “Yeah. I forgot about the DVD player so I brought up your file copy to the TV.”

“T-thank you. It’s from G&M,” you stuttered.

Seven didn’t seem to take heed, nodding distractedly as he continued to inspect the case.

“Anyway. Let me properly introduce these two,” Vanderwood sighed, pulling you away from ‘Six.’ “They’re my roommates. You’ve met Sev-Saeyoung before-”

“Hiya, Cupcake Girl!”

“-and this is his wife, MC2.”

“You can call me Six!”

Vanderwood shot her a glare that she ignored, grinning at you. “You’re not leaving, are you? Why don’t you stay a bit longer?”

He felt the color draining from his face, motioning for her to quit it.

“Really? I don’t want to impose-”

“Nonsense, nonsense! You’re Vandy’s girlfriend, right? You’re always welcome here.”

She knew damn well you two weren’t together. Vanderwood pulled away from you and MC2 faked a gasp.

“Oh! Sorry, I just thought…”

“N-no, we aren’t - uh, we’re just -”

“Really close friends by now, huh?” Seven chimed in, finally putting down the DVD and wrapping an arm over his wife’s shoulders.

“Friends…”

“Well, it can be a _platonic_ double date. Eh?”

They were dead. Vanderwood could just knock you out first, a quick blow to the back of the head. You wouldn’t know what happened, there wouldn’t be any lasting damage. Then, he could quickly snap both Seven and Six in half and burn their fingerprints off at the stove right before he-

You turned to face him with balled fists. “U-um, I can stay a little longer. If you want, I mean.”

“...Yeah.”

Vanderwood had lost. Against his better judgment, everyone sat around the living room and continued talking. Well, Vanderwood was mostly quiet, glaring at the back of Seven’s head and knowing his reflexes weren’t what they used to be, knowing he could so easily hit him with the remote near him on the table.

It’s not that he was worried about the conversation lulling, Vanderwood just preferred to be alone with you. He hated talking and he hated talking in groups. His eyes were still trained on the heavy remote, working out how much force he’d need to knock a man unconscious when the warm and friendly air of the room was swallowed up.

“So how did you and Vanderwood meet?”

Seven stood up, a serious expression on his face before he suddenly crouched and aimed his finger like a gun. Mimicking the rolls of Dame Bond, he ‘shot’ at living room objects.

“Pew pew! Pew pew!”

Seven dashed and somersaulted over the couch, to which Six began to clap and awe with you following her.

He popped back up and bowed with a flourish, grinning widely. He posed dramatically with every word he shouted. “Super! Secret! Agents!”

Panic turned to rage turned to confusion across Vanderwood’s face as he watched the obnoxious affair.

“Se-” he started before biting his tongue.

You were laughing - _hysterically_.

“Oh my gosh, I didn’t know you were so athletic. Saeyoung, you’re hilarious!”

“Right?” Six sighed dreamily, which only made you laugh more.

“No, really,” you said, continuing to giggle the whole way through, “How did you meet? College? A martial arts class?”

“Hm, why don’t you ask Vandycandy, Cupcake?”

You whirled to face him, an expectant smile on your face.

“W-we were...coworkers,” he mumbled.

“Really? What did you two do?”

“Nothing special. We just did, uh, cybersecurity.”

“Jeez, you know computer stuff too?” you gasped.

“Yup!” Seven chimed in, moving around the couch to poke his nose to Six. “Vanderwood’s a genius. Not as genius as me of course, but he did train me in a lot of things.”

“That’s so cool. So you left for baking, huh?”

“Yeah,” Vanderwood interrupted. “Anyway, it’s late, let me bring you home.”

“Oh, right.” You checked your phone and grimaced. “Oops, sorry for staying so late.”

“It’s no problem,” Six giggled, playfully biting at her husband. “Please come see us again, you’re great, MCCupcake.”

Vanderwood cut the goodbyes short, ushering you out the door before the two trolls could be any more humiliating or keep you around even longer. In the night air, he finally exhaled and breathed in the welcoming cool.

“That was-”

“Amazing!” you grinned, hopping down the steps to the main street.

“I was going to say a disaster,” he chuckled, strolling after.

“What? No way!”

“I guess you would get along with them.”

“It’s not like you don’t.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. What about that interaction showed the three of them get along in that house?

“You’re obviously very close to them. You went from coworkers to living together.”

“There wasn’t much decision at the time,” he sighed.

“Uh huh,” you said sarcastically. “So was MC2 the wife you mentioned before?”

Oh, the apron.

“Mm, yeah…”

“Haha. Now I understand your reaction. At first, I thought you were saying you never wanted a wife.”

He’d never thought of such a thing because that possibility was taken from him when he first joined the Agency. The concept was so foreign that all he found himself responding with was a:

“Oh.”

Vanderwood let his eyes move from your back to the sidewalk as he felt you turning to face him. “Um - and what were you trying to tell me before they, uh...came in?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. What _was_ he going to say? Probably something embarrassing.

“I don’t remember,” he shrugged. “Not important.”

“Oh...I see.”

You got quiet and turned back to continue walking. Reluctantly, he jogged up to be by your side and returned the small smile you gave him. You both enjoyed the silence, instead pointing out strange shapes of darkening clusters of trees or the odd sight of a dog running from its owner, leash dragging on the sidewalk.

“Thank you for this, Vanderwood,” you piped up.

“Oh. No need for that. This is just friend stuff, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

He was hoping for a more flustered reaction like he had when you first called him your friend. But there was nothing. You must really think the two of you are good friends.

Huh. A friend. That was...fine. A friend and a fake boyfriend.

The two titles used to bring him a strange sense of uneasiness, but now they just made him relax. Vanderwood didn’t really understand why or when that changed, but as long as you both could take walks like this, maybe it didn’t matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (╯✧∇✧)╯*:･ﾟ✧ (I'm back from vacation and now have a c o m p u t e r)
> 
> Please leave a comment if you wish *:･ﾟ✧


	8. Ballroom Dancing / Strawberry-Banana Smoothie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MC (reluctantly) goes out for a girls' night.

Your coworkers were purposely trying to annoy you, claiming that you seemed to be floating on love’s clouds.

But for once you didn’t care. They were right. The movie ‘date’ went amazing. There were no awkward flirting or seduction attempts on your part and Vanderwood never shied away from you the whole time. You had more of his exclusive cooking and the party being crashed led to you being somewhat accepted into his odd family.

Of course, your more-than-friendly feelings were still there. You were probably dooming yourself to heartbreak, falling for a guy who thought of you as a helpless customer-turned-friend to take care of. What a terrible situation you were in, you thought to yourself, giggling as you typed away at your work computer.

In your cloud, all of those concerns didn’t seem to matter. You were so happy that you said ‘yes’ to everything Sunmi and Amelia threw at you.

Which made your cloud come crashing down when the Friday workday ended and you realized what you’d signed up for.

“What are you talking about?”

“MC, you _do_ know the entrance fee was 70,000 won, right? You already sent me the bank transfer and I already paid your fee.”

Amelia stopped by your desk, wondering why you weren’t packing up to leave when you all were going home early to change.

_For the club party._

Julee came next, nearly skipping to your cubicle and then frowning as she saw your things spread out across your desk.

“What happened? You’re not ready?”

“Apparently, MC here on her cloud didn’t know she signed up for the party,” Amelia sighed.

“What? That’s all we’ve been talking about all day. Girl, what’s wrong with you?”

“Uh - I, sorry. I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention at all, I’m sorry.” You didn’t have an excuse and you weren’t going to pretend you did.

"It's fine. What's left for you to do? We'll help you, " Julee smiled.

Sometimes you forgot they weren't always terrible. But…

"I can't go. I already have plans," you confessed.

"Vanderwood again? You've been with him almost _every_ weekend now."

Their smiles morphed to glares. They were...right.

"Well, yes, but-"

"Tell him you're not coming then."

You could stand up for yourself. You knew that. But they were absolutely right in that you were neglecting them for Vanderwood. It wasn't fair.

Defeated, you tapped on your phone as they watched you type.

"Fine...I just need to refill the printer and then I'll be done."

They cheered and went to fulfill your task as you closed down your workstation.

Of course, you hadn't actually canceled. You'd told him your predicament, hoping he'd magically make it okay or swoop in to save you. Instead, you sighed as you read his reply telling you to please enjoy yourself and letting him know when you got back home safe.

It was impossible to be disappointed when Vanderwood was that sweet. Ugh.

Exhaling, you slowly fell down from your cloud and prepared to face the reality that you were going to a fancy nightclub tonight instead of inhaling the wonderful aromas of Vanderwood and his bakery. You wished the night would go fast, so you went home fast, dressed fast, and found your way to the location fast.

"MC, you look so cute! But…"

They stared at your odd choice of wearing tights under your black dress to the bar.

"Why do you look like you're trying to be modest? I can see your cleavage," Amelia laughed.

Flushing, you quickly covered up your chest with your shawl and rolled your eyes.

It's not like Vanderwood would be there. What did you care about your outfit, truly? Not much, unsurprisingly.

"Oh leave her alone," Julee hummed, brushing past the three of you to the entrance. She produced her identity card and motioned for the rest of you to hurry and follow. The four of you quickly dismissed the topic and readied your cards, grouped on the red carpet in front of the unassuming brick-and-stone with only a single address number plate on the door to denote it was a building at all.

An alternating hint of neon lights slipped under the locked door and no sound escaped. There wasn't even a line, just the single security guard who looked a lot older than most in his occupation and the four of you.

Sketchy.

"Is this even the place?" Amelia muttered.

Sunmi laughed. "It's purposely hidden."

The security guard scanned his clipboard and then nodded, approving Julee who winked and was ushered inside. Just the small opening of the door was enough for music to blast onto the street, blending in with her singsong voice.

“See ya-”

Her voice was cut off as the door shut, taking the music with her into whatever Wonderland was beyond the door.

“Next,” the guard gruffly nodded.

A pair of hands shoved you forward and you awkwardly handed the guard your I.D. He held it up, looking between you and your card before checking his list again. He shoved the card back into your hands so he could flip pages.

You _were_ on the list, right?

Part of you wanted to be locked out so you could call Vanderwood and see if he was still available. The other part didn’t want the embarrassment.

“S-sometimes, my name is misspelled wi-”

“Go in.”

He held open the door and you gave a polite nod before rushing in. What kind of bizarre place was this?

Before you could even check behind you, the door was shut in your face. Alright, then.

Taking a deep breath, you walked down the corridor, following the music and stream of lights that bled all over the long, yellow carpet. Apparently, people take the yellow brick road into Wonderland.

At the end of the walkway, you gasped. This wasn’t like any nightclub you’d ever gone too. It was packed full of laughing people, but not too crowded as to be uncomfortable. People in all manner of attire - from business casual to ballroom to bizarre peacock-themed runway costumes danced or spoke or sat with one another.

Before you could even process it, a glass of a pink-and-yellow concoction was thrust in your face as Julee held it proudly.

  
  
“Welcome!”

You were too dumbstruck to do much than accept the cold liquid as your legs followed the nearly-skipping Julee over to a plush booth. She patted the seat and you sunk into it. Satisfied, she nodded.

“Amazing, right?”

“It’s nothing like I thought it’d be.”

“Exactly. This is the benefit of this place,” she laughed while fanning her arm around the room as if she had anything to do with it. “No expectations and no annoying kids. Never too crowded, amazing drinks and food. Hold on, I’m going to wait for the others so they can find our booth.”

Without waiting for a response, she slipped away.

_Our booth._

You weren’t sure if you ever had your own booth before - but to be fair, when had you paid so much money just to enter a club? Feeling yourself start to smile, your finger excitedly tapped at your glass of the unnamed drink as you watched the people of what felt like a classy adult Halloween party. You _had_ to tell Vanderwood about this.

You quickly opened your phone but immediately saw the problem - no reception. Huh? Frowning, you slid to the other side of the booth. No change at all, not even a single bar.

“Excuse me, ma’am, we don’t allow phones or photos here.”

The phone was almost dropped it as you glanced up to the passing attendant, a bright smile on her face and a tray of...some sort of square-shaped food in her hand.

“O-oh, I’m sorry. Is my phone supposed to be in a locker?”

She laughed, taking a toothpick and poking it into the...food, before handing it to you.

“I spoke too soon. Phones are allowed, it’s just reception is blocked here and no pictures should be taken. We kindly request to only take out your phone if it’s to exchange contact information or something trivial. Trust me, you’ll have lots of fun here.”

Two people - a man in a dress and a woman in a suit - grabbed some of the samplers as they passed by, chatting away about some corrupt politician that was recently outed.

“Anyhow,” she continued. “Feel free to come up to anyone in a red uniform if you have any more questions. And please do try the free samples. This in particular,” she gestured with her shoulder, “is duck-stuffed mushroom. It goes fast. Have a nice night!”

And she was gone.

Duck-stuffed mushroom? Grimacing, you inspected the strange sight. It smelled nice enough but the idea of it…

“MC!”

  
Your co-workers mimicked your previous awe-struck face as they followed behind Julee.

“Oh! Are you going to eat that?” she gasped.

You stuffed it in your mouth as a response. Ah! Delicious! Surprised at the strange but brilliant flavor, you silently chewed, eyes on your excited acquaintances.

“This place is so fancy!”

“Are those real peacock feathers? Is that legal?”

“Hey, you bought MC a drink but not us?”

Oh, you’d nearly forgotten. Swallowing the duck, you looked over the glass.

“What exactly is this?”

“Not sure, actually. But they said it was sweet.”

“Can I try it for you?” Sunmi smiled.

You nodded and everyone joined you in the booth, all eyes on Sunmi and the glass to her lips.

“Oh! Tart, but with a sweet aftertaste. It’s a strawberry-banana smoothie.”

“But I asked for a drink,” Julee frowned.

“Oh, I’m…” Sunmi chuckled uncomfortably. “…pretty certain this is alcoholic.”

“Let me try!”

The drink made its rounds, everyone’s faces scrunching from the tartness then quickly turning into a delighted smile.

It was unanimous. The drinks here were too delicious to end at one and everyone was angry that they hadn’t had more alcoholic smoothies in their lifetime.

You hadn’t even planned to drink tonight, but you couldn’t deny the appeal of ‘mixed berry sherry’ nor your love of ‘pineapple-mango party.’ The samples were so endless that it wasn’t until Samara ordered a full tray to share that you all realized you hadn’t _really_ eaten.

There was no denying it. This was the greatest club you’d ever been to.

“What in the world?”

All heads turned toward Samara who squinted into the crowd.

“What?”

“Oh...my God.”

Your jaw dropped.

He hadn’t noticed your booth yet, fidgeting with his suit as he shuffled awkwardly through the crowd.

“Did you invite him?” everyone asked simultaneously, turning toward you.

“N-no! I thought Amelia did!”

“I didn’t,” she sighed. “I would but he’s rejected every single previous invite. I have no idea how he even knew about this place.”

“Well...someone call him over,” Julee scoffed.

“H-hey!”

Castiel startled at the mention of his name, eyes widening before he nearly sprinted over. He seemed just as confused. “Y-you guys are here? Together?”

“I thought you hated nightclubs,” said Amelia, the accusation clear in her voice.

“U-uh. I mean, yes. I do.”

No one bothered to even ask for an explanation, a group sigh lost to the loud music as Castiel joined you at the booth.

“Looks like the gang’s all here then,” you chuckled.

And so it was. Castiel, apparently, was a closet foodie. He’d only come here because he heard the food and drinks were good, having no intention of actually dancing or speaking to people. It was only because of you all that he bothered to stay.

Out of habit, you checked your phone. Thrice in the first hour, twice in the second, once in the third, until your mind finally realized there would be no messages to or from Vanderwood tonight. Your chest felt full and fuzzy, cheeks warm as you wondered if he was a worrywart. You didn’t want Vanderwood to worry about you, but you would also love if he did.

“Stop laughing to yourself, you’re making _me_ laugh,” a woman’s voice whined in your ear. You weren’t even sure who it was, only catching every other word as you mostly listened to your incredibly loud heartbeat.

“She’s gone.”

Your eyes were having a hard time focusing. Who was gone?

The voices floated away from you and you watched them leave, blending into a mass of vibrant colors. There wasn’t much difference between the floor and the people, which you found incredibly amusing.

Slender arms reached near you and you gasped at the beautiful, starry nail polish on the hands that fit inside of yours. A giggle ran out and you looked up at a handsome face with brilliant brown eyes that reminded you of Vanderwood.

“...fun...sit...dance…”

You weren’t sure what the person was asking, but they gently pulled you up and led you to the dancefloor, a welcoming grin on their face that made you smile back and feel at ease. As soon as you joined the mass, they stayed by your side, singing a song that wasn’t playing with great enthusiasm as they mimicked a robot.

They were a great dancer, you thought.

You tried to copy them and they laughed, slowing down and repeating movements until you caught on.

You kept practicing. Wait, where did they go? It seemed like a completely new crowd was surrounding you now, doing a group dance that felt very familiar but you couldn’t put your finger on. Somehow, your body knew the moves, though.

It ended and Samara’s face appeared, twirling you around briefly before fading away into the crowd again. Where was everyone? Your concern faded away as the next song started. A new face appeared in front of you with long, brown hair that reminded you of Vanderwood.

“...will...dance…”

Were they asking you to dance? You danced anyway, not knowing what any of your limbs were doing outside of vaguely trying to keep up with the fast tempo of the lights. They matched the beats of the blaring song that felt like a...peacock.

“MC?”

A voice you knew shouted in your ear and you lazily spun around, taking Samara’s waist in your hands as you danced with her.

She laughed. “MC...your boyfriend…”

You didn’t hear the rest of what she said as she put her hands on your own waist. Taking the lead, she began to move the two of you away from the dancefloor.

Realizing her devious plot, you hastily squirmed away. “No way! Dance with me!”

“MC, Vanderwood is here.”

Vanderwood? Oh, how you missed Vanderwood!

You sighed, wrapping an arm over her shoulders and moving your lips close to her ear. “I really like...Vanderwood.”

“Yes, he’s looking for you.”

You nodded. Vanderwood missed you too? That’d be nice.

“MC?”

The fog around your mind lifted for only a moment as your eyes snapped to the only voice in the room.

“Vandy?”

There he stood, hair down and dressed as you’d never seen him before - black pants and blazer, black shoes with a leopard print trim, and a single purple button-up shirt that was not very buttoned up as far as you could tell by his amazing collarbones.

You rushed towards him.

“Vandy!”

You wrapped your hands around him, hugging him tight and smelling the familiar scent of bread you’d come to love so much.

“...sorry...I didn’t mean...didn’t answer...home…”

His words didn’t make sense but he looked worried.

“You’re the best...fake boyfriend ever. Sometimes I forget it’s not...real, hehe.”

You squinted up at him, wondering why he looked so red when the lights were currently alternating green and yellow.

“MC? Are you alright?”

You grinned and nodded, poking him in the side. “Mhm! You came to dance with me?”

“N-no…”

“No?”

You frowned and gently pulled away. Why would he be here if he wasn’t going to dance with you? You wanted to see him dance!

Huffing, you rushed back to your group of friends nearby and grabbed Amelia’s hand and Sunmi’ wrist, pulling them with you to the dancefloor instead. Maybe if you showed Vanderwood how much fun it was, he would join you!

You spun with both of the women and peeked over your shoulder to see Vanderwood sitting at the bar. How dare he!

Your feet stomped over to him sitting besides Castiel and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pressing yourself against his back for his full attention.

“Vandy, come dance now.”

“I don’t really dance.”

“Vandy pleeeeeeee-ease.”

“I’ll wait till you’re done, I really don’t-”

“You’re my fake boyfriend...you have to dance with your fake girlfriend…”

Vandy grumbled something but finally stood up, turning as you retracted your arms from around him.

“I can show you how,” you promised, taking one of his hands in yours. Oh, he was so warm! Even warmer than Samara. You stopped leading him to the dancefloor for a moment, inspecting his hands and feeling them out.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Nice hands,” you confirmed. They fit so perfect around yours, much better than you realized.

Vanderwood took the lead, suddenly wanting to dance as much as you did.

“Alright, you said you’d show me.”

“Yes!”

You started off spinning away from him, showing him the different dances others had shown you throughout the night. Oops, were you going too fast? You’d somehow danced all the way across the floor and jogged back, picking back up where you left off. He was watching, right?

He was, one hand barely hiding his smile as his eyes focused on you. They were so beautiful that you paused to get close to him, looking up in awe.

“You’re supposed to be teaching me,” he chuckled, one hand reaching to tickle your ear. You squealed and moved away.

“I was! Weren’t you...watching?” Your words slurred, only frustrating you more.

“Here…” You barely heard him say it, distracted by his strong arm gently reaching around you and pulling you flush against him.

Vanderwood held your hand out and began a slow pace of moving the two of you in a back-and-forth motion that reminded you of…

“Ballroom dancing?”

He nodded, his hand spinning you far more elegantly yet speedily than you could yourself before pulling you back.

“Wow, so you can dance!”

“Not in a club,” he shrugged.

He continued on quietly and you felt your heavy eyes close, leaning against the comfort of his hard chest as you both swayed together. The music changed and you snapped awake again.

Vanderwood slowly let go as your coworkers came into view, clapping and laughing as they surrounded your fake boyfriend.

“Wow, what a romantic.”

“You stole the whole dancefloor.”

“That was so cute!”

“Show us more. What about club dancing? Can you do any single dances?”

“Yeah, show us more!”

Your initial jealousy was quickly squashed by your curiosity. “Vandy, it’s okay, you can show them whatever you want.”

“Oh, you call him Vandy, that’s so cute.”

“Aww, yeah _Vandy_ , show us something.”

Vanderwood scowled but made space for himself. He awkwardly shuffled for a moment as his feet tapped to the beat. Then - he was rocking his hips forward, arms mimicking how he only just held you in your waltz and his legs moving in a quickstep. Your friends cheered while you gasped, watching the man who claimed he couldn’t dance utterly show off.

It wasn’t a waltz or a quickstep or cha-cha. But it wasn’t a shuffle or hustle or sway either. It was something that felt beautiful and new and uniquely Vanderwood. The same Vanderwood who baked cookies, didn’t know what _Twilighter_ was, and felt nervous in theaters.

You joined him, not really able to keep up with his unique moves, but following him all the same. If the music had ever stopped, the two of you didn’t notice. If he had ever been against dancing, it didn’t seem like it now. If hours had passed, your mind couldn’t keep up.

But you remembered his laugh, ringing, ringing in your ears. It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard, really. Never had Vandy seemed so relaxed around you. You never wanted the night to end.

But apparently, it had, because when your eyes opened again Vanderwood wasn’t there.

You shot up, the cold of your sheets feeling too cold and the light of the morning a bit too bright. How did you get here? The club had welcomed you only a moment ago. Oh no, your purse! Your bag!

Forcing your aching body toward the edge of your bed, you paused when you saw the purse sitting at your nightstand and phone plugged into your outlet. Oh…

You relaxed into the sheets, staring at both and trying to remember your night. But it was giving you a headache. Did you have a hangover? Groaning, your eyes closed once more.

“Cupcake…”

Was that a memory? It was a pleasant one. At the very least, you remembered Vanderwood’s charming and carefree laughter and you remembered he had called you ‘Cupcake.’ So had Saeyoung, but it felt completely different now. Why had he called you that?

You bit your lip but quickly gave in, letting yourself grin and giggle to yourself even through your pounding head and equally pounding heart. Vandy came for you. You weren’t sure why or how, but he spent the whole _night_ with you. And it made you the happiest you’d been in a long time.

A frustrated sigh escaped your still-grinning lips. How annoying.

This wasn’t a crush. You were in love with Vanderwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double chapter posting powerrrrr! ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this cute little chapter, come back for the next for a different POV of the events!
> 
> Please leave a comment if you wish (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


	9. Old Friend(?)/ Fresh Croissants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood calls up an old...friend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bonus chapter, Vanderwood's POV of chapter 8!

Vanderwood didn’t remember when he changed his phone settings off silent, but now he looked forward to any time it beeped in his back pocket. Yet, for the first time in a long time, he stared at it with half-hearted disappointment. He wondered if it would be selfish to ask you to cancel something to be with him. Yes, it would. And in horror, he realized he didn’t care.

But he didn’t want you to see him that way. Carefully, he finally messaged you back:

“It’s alright. I’m sorry I’ve been taking so much of your time, of course I don’t mind. Please enjoy yourself and let me know when you get back home safe.”

Smiley face as you did?

…No. No, no, no.

Vanderwood stared around the empty apartment. He wasn’t leaving, he could put away these groceries and ingredients.

So he did.

He wasn’t leaving, so he could change into something more comfortable.

So he did.

He wasn’t leaving, so he could…clean some more?

So he did.

He wasn’t leaving and you weren’t coming, what did he even do in his free time before you came into his life? Vanderwood stared at the couch where the two of you sat before, timidly touching his ear, trying to remember how you did.

What time was it?

A quick tap of his phone made his blood run cold.

Vanderwood panicked. It was the most idiotic thing he’d ever done and it was the worst call he’d ever made. Saeyoung and MC2 were gone and time was of the essence. He didn’t have any other options he trusted.

Saeran didn’t ask questions and came immediately.

“Is it a woman?” he finally said, eyes still glued to the screen in his twin’s home. Saeran didn’t like visiting, but that was completely understandable. It was agreed long ago that the obnoxious lovebirds were disgusting. That was probably Saeran’s real reason for leaving. Not for privacy or to pursue his own interests at his own pace, but a mix of unresolved envy and general horror at seeing his brother make out with someone.

“...Yeah,” Vanderwood muttered, itchy fingers flexing on his gun for a weird sense of comfort while his other hand impatiently pulled at his collar.

“Do you love her?”

“No,” he snapped.

Saeran scoffed. “Right.”

Vanderwood bit away his snarky reply and forced himself to relax. Emotions were a detriment to missions. He didn’t know why Saeran was trying to rile him up over nothing but he wouldn’t fall for it.

“Found it.”

He looked over Saeran’s shoulders, seeing the security footage that showed you entering the strangely blank building. _This_ was the nightclub?

“She hasn’t exited the place. I even looked for any hidden tunnels and other possible doors that lead out.”

“Thank you.”

Saeran quickly shut down Seven’s laptop but tucked it in his briefcase. “So let’s go.”

He froze, eyes raking over his temporary partner’s rather relaxed demeanor. What was he supposed to do? If things got physical he’d be a burden. It wasn’t like he forgot their first, unfortunate meeting. Even completely doped up on drugs, his frail body made him more of a rapid Pomeranian than a young man. Even now, a healthier version of himself, Vanderwood still wasn’t sure if Saeran’s muscles should be outside his gardens.

“You’re coming with me?”

“You don’t want my help?  


Vanderwood pressed his lips together. Help was fine. He had no reason to refuse it. It wasn’t like he’d be stuck in a car with Seven. He curtly nodded and led the way to his car. They took off towards the location as Saeran continued to monitor footage.

“Seatbelt.”

“What?”

“Your seatbelt.”

Vanderwood grimaced and awkwardly pulled it over his torso, completely forgotten in his rush. What the hell happened to him recently? In the past, Saeran barely communicated with him outside of food or about Seven and now he was volunteering to accompany him places and chiding him for not using a seatbelt?

Who are you?

Did leaving the house on his own really change him this much? He was definitely moving out. This new Saeran was odd but not..terrible.

“So...is it ‘Cupcake Girl’?”

Nevermind. Vanderwood grimaced. What happened to being the quiet one?

“Does that brother of yours tell you everything that ever happens in my life?”

“Only the significant things,” Saeran hummed.

“H-huh? This isn’t...no, it’s not like that.”

“Saeyoung said it was your first crush and friend.”

“I don’t - we don’t - it was just - we’re…” Damn, well, Seven wasn’t completely wrong.

Saeran didn’t say anything, waiting for him to finish his thought. But he wasn’t going to. His stuttering had said enough and Saeran’s small smirk didn’t go unnoticed.

Vanderwood wished you’d told him the name of the nightclub to avoid all of this. Because of the lack of address, Saeran had ended up hacking into your coworkers’ bank account to find who she sent the entry fees to and narrowed it down to one of the three nightclubs that the owner had. In addition, he had to pay a ridiculous, emergency entry fee.

“Wait.”

Vanderwood paused, halfway out the car.

“A trap?”

Saeran raised an eyebrow without looking up at him. “Huh? No. There’s a signal blocker for the building.”

“Oh…”

Should he be less or more worried? Was that a normal thing to do?

“I disabled it.”

Fast.

Vanderwood stepped out of the car and Saeran reluctantly followed. He wasn’t joining him, was he?

“Look-”

“Vanderwood-”

“Oh. Go ahead, Saeran.”

The man huffed. “Yeah, I hate clubs. I’m not going. But I’ll wait for you.”

He was already looking away before he finished his sentence and Vanderwood settled on believing Saeran meant it.

“Here.”

Vanderwood produced one of the credit cards from his pocket and shoved it into Saeran’s hands, making him look back and slightly stumble.

“Take a taxi home.”

“H-huh? But this card is from-”

“I know, I know. But I - uh - trust you. I guess. So just go. I’ll call you if I need to.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go before I change my mind.”

With a turn and a wave, Vanderwood stalked off towards the security guard before he really did change his mind. It was Saeran - this was fine, right? It’s not like he didn’t trust him, he slept in the same house as him. The three people he used to live with, they were like his own little…

Vanderwood stopped. Huh.

“Name?”

“Hanul Green.”

No time for a new, fake ID. Vanderwood ended up using one of the many he kept on him for emergencies.

“Go in.”

The security guard - who didn’t look like much of a threat, actually - waved him in nonchalantly. If security was actually low, then that was good. Maybe this was a regular establishment after all.

Or not. What kind of club was this? It looked like a hallway leading to a cremation chamber except the technician was alone and throwing themselves a party. Vanderwood peeked back at Saeran, who met his gaze briefly right before the heavy door slammed in his face. He wasn’t sure what he saw - resignation? Vanderwood already felt guilty for daring to ask for the favor, considering Saeran explicitly stated several times how he never wanted to work in ‘that business’ again.

But he did this for him. Vanderwood would have to sincerely thank him later.

A careful step forward turned into two turned into a sprint as he finally rounded the corner. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting - but not this. He found you in seconds - bathed in a heavenly yellow glow, dancing your heart out on the dancefloor. Everyone else was secondary.

“Vanderwood?”

His eyes didn’t leave you, but he recognized the voice. Samara.

“Oh my God, of course MC invited you! You see her over there, right?”

How could he not? The most notable observation about you was that you were incredibly, impossibly drunk.

“Yeah, I...see her. Everything is alright here?”

Samara hummed, peeking up at him curiously. “Yup. You can ask her yourself though, hold on, I’ll go get her!”

Clearly, she never intended to listen for an answer. He awkwardly waited, watching their back and forth and how you ran away from her only to dance with her again. Did you not want to see him? It wasn’t too late to shuffle off...No! He couldn’t. He needed to know if you were really alright. Could Samara even be trusted?

“MC?”

Your name fell from his lips haphazardly but your eyes still moved to his. They went wide before you abandoned Samara and ran to him.

“Uh, h-”

Your arms wrapped around his waist and you laughed. W-what?

“Um. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. You weren’t answering your phone, I didn’t think you’d be out this late. If you’re fine, I can go home now. Unless you want me to take you home?”

You gazed up at him with a sweet smile on your face. Were you even listening? There was no reaction, just a strange look that reminded him of when you looked at puppies in that park.

“You’re the best...fake boyfriend ever. Sometimes I forget it’s not...real, hehe.”

Forgets…?

What did that mean? Was he doing something wrong? Was he too obvious? These were questions he couldn’t ask and neither wanted the answer to. He didn’t know what to do with his arms as you continued to hug him and glare up at his face.

“MC? Are you alright?”

“Mhm! You came to dance with me?”

“N-no…”

“No?”

And like that you were gone, huffing and stumbling back to your friends and pulling them onto the dancefloor instead. He didn’t count it as a disappointment. He was safe from your heated touch at least for a moment. What was he supposed to do here - you had hugged him, told him sweet things, held his hand, demanded he dance with you...Ugh. With your coworkers all believing this relationship was real and the way you pouted at him, how was he supposed to be okay? Vanderwood hated that you might literally get away with murder if you smiled at him enough.

And you kept - freaking hell - touching him!

He wanted a damn drink, leaving you to your dancing while he sat at the bar.

“So you’re the ‘hot baker’ they all squeal about. Gotta hand it to you, your bread is pretty awesome.”

Vanderwood’s ears were blazing even hotter than before. Did he mean your coworkers? Or did you call him hot? This must be the Castiel guy you’d told him about. He seemed to know you and definitely had the dead look in his eyes and the dark bags as described. Vanderwood hesitated but turned towards him, prepared to ask the question before your arms wrapped around him - again. He froze.

Your lips were brushing against his ear with hot and sugary breath making his legs feel like jelly. The entirety of your chest pressed against his back as you rubbed your face against his. Is this how you interacted with your friends? How unfair.

“Vandy, come dance now.”

He didn’t know what he was replying until he already did it, trying to swallow away small screams. “I don’t really dance.”

“Vandy pleeeeeeee-ease.”

“I’ll wait till you’re done, I really don’t-”

“You’re my fake boyfriend...you have to dance with your fake girlfriend…” You were whining now - your audible demands vibrating against his already hot skin and making it tender.

He caved. “You’re impossible…”

You needed to get off of him before he did something he regretted. He finally stood up and turned to your excited smile.

“I can show you how,” you promised, taking one of his hands in yours. You bounded off, seemingly proud to leave him, before slowing to a halt right before the dancefloor. Your delicate fingers searched his, face scrunched in a confused scowl.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Nice hands.” Your fingers went between the gaps of his, gripping him tightly and waving both hands as if gauging their weight.

Enough. Enough! You clearly needed a more entertaining distraction than killing him. Vanderwood rushed you onto the dancefloor.

“Alright, you said you’d show me.”

“Yes!”

You began to ‘show’ him. It was scattered, didn’t go along with the song tempo, and you were laughing at a joke he didn’t get but found himself smiling along to. He’d completely wasted his time coming here when you were so free of danger.

But he didn’t regret it. He didn’t regret the way you laughed and drunkenly spun, unaware of other dancers or the rhythm of playing songs. You were...beautiful. He’d never seen you so relaxed around him. It was almost painful, the way he was envious of everyone who got to see the way you glowed like this. He wanted you to himself.

He offered his arm out as a crutch when you came back - and good thing, you nearly crashed into him. “You’re supposed to be teaching me,” he chuckled. His free hand moved to fix a piece of hair that was newly tousled but you slipped away from him with a squeal.

“I was! Weren’t you...watching?” Your words slurred, followed by a huff.

Of _course_ he was watching. He watched you more than he wanted to, more than he’d like to admit. But for some delightful reason, you didn’t know that. Vanderwood decided to dance - for you. Although, he only knew one way.

“Here…” He reached around you and gently pulled you flush against him. Had he ever done this for fun? Could it even be fun? Well, there was one way to find out.

He held your hand out and began a slow-paced waltz, focusing on not running into the other dancers.

“Ballroom dancing?”

He nodded, seeing an opening on the floor and taking the opportunity to quickly spin you around.

“Wow, so you can dance!”

“Not in a club,” he shrugged. This definitely wasn’t the place for his kind of high society dancing. But as you played along, he started to relax.

It went well enough, judging by the cheers. But yours was the only one that mattered. And your laughter was addicting, enough for him to have the most fun he’d ever had in a place he thought he’d never want to be caught in. A kind of place that, previously, was only visited for information gathering of vulnerable targets.

But Vanderwood held you, tight even, and for once in his miserable life enjoyed a moment with nothing on his mind but the present. Nothing else really mattered - or at least, it didn’t feel like it. One dance became two, became three. He wasn’t sure when he started laughing along with you - but he did. It was like a contact high being here, intoxicated by your sweetness that threatened to poison him.

But like all positive things he’d experienced, even this bliss had to end.

You were going to fall over at this rate. Your eyes were barely held open, your words in and out and body slowing.

“But Vand-yyyyy,” you whined, holding onto his arms because you could hardly stand in your exhaustion.

Your coworkers jeered, loving the nickname. Flustered, he tried to think of something to embarrass you and take the spotlight off of him.

  
“Alright, listen, _Cupcake_ -”

But it had backfired. He was the one embarrassed. Why did stupid Seven put that nickname in his head? You gaped up at him and he had to look away. “I-I’ve had fun but it’s very late now. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

“I bet she will!” Amelia screamed out.

Flushing even harder, he finally managed to bring you to his car, where you immediately fell asleep in his passenger seat before you were even able to buckle yourself. If it were anyone else drooling on his window he would be annoyed. But not even that felt like anything but warm in his chest. He reached over and buckled you in, watching the way your chest calmly rose and fell. You were so comfortable with him. Your…friend…

Shit. This was a weird feeling. A really intense, weird feeling.

“Hey, put in your passcode. Or key?”

He held you bridal style in his arms, having carried you to your front door. Limply, you groaned and slid your fingers sloppily over the keypad. Incorrect. Incorrect. Incorrect. Gah.

“It’s fine,” Vanderwood murmured.

You smiled and sighed, closing your eyes and resting comfortably against him. Silly girl.

He waited a moment to make sure you were actually asleep before putting in the code himself – not that you knew he knew. He wasn’t supposed to. Your house was dark and quiet, a little messier than any time he’d been over, but not even that seemed to bother him.

He’d never been to your room before but found it easily. It smelled like you and he carefully tucked you into the covers. Reluctantly, he left back to the car to retrieve your belongings before standing silently in your bedroom doorway.

Fast asleep. He didn’t want to go home even though there was nothing left for him to do here. But that was a weird feeling. A really intense, weird feeling.

So weird it led him to sleep for four hours and still drive back to your house in the morning. He hesitated on the stairs, holding in a bag the healthiest option for a hangover remedy - a green smoothie and fresh croissants for breakfast. Well, he was already here. So what if it was embarrassing? With an exhale he brought himself to knock.

“Mm – Vandy?”

“Uh – here. Hangover. I mean, smoothie for a hangover. And croissants, just because I – uh – you like croissants.”

Your bleary-eyed gaze told him what he needed – that you were in desperate need of the concoction.

“It’s…green,” you muttered with a groan.

“Just promise you’ll drink it.”

“Hmm…fine…”

That was enough for him.

“Um, Vandy? Last night-?”

“I have to go home!”

The worst lie he’d told. Wow. What happened to all his training?

“Uh, goodnight – morning!”

With an awkward wave, he turned and ran for it, cursing at himself for doing something so cheesy. You could take care of yourself and he was probably looking desperate now, especially after showing up to your private getaway just because you didn’t answer _one night’s_ texts. And now he just showed up at your door a few hours later? Pathetic.

_He_ was pathetic.

Saeran was right. Saeyoung was right. MC2 was right. He’d been wrong and those trolls had been...right? He hated the concept of it, but maybe - for this situation anyway - it wasn’t so bad. He was in love with you. Absolutely, impossibly in love with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After rereading chapter 10, I decided I hated it and so I didn't double post it;;; ( ﾉ ﾟｰﾟ)ﾉ
> 
> Sorry for the wait, I'm going to make some changes first! As always, leave a comment if you like :) Thank you!*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧


	10. Off Limits / Miyeok Guk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off limit rooms and friendship boundaries are tested.

“Do you want me to bring you soup?”

Your eyes stared at the blurry message as you struggled to grab another tissue from your nightstand.

Was he being literal? Maybe he meant to _order_ you some nice soup. It was Wednesday, which meant Vanderwood had a full day on the job and definitely didn’t have time to both make and personally deliver you food. It was only a minor cold and by the time the afternoon came, you were already feeling better. You could even go for a walk if you wanted.

But, knowing Vanderwood as you did, you couldn’t discount the seriousness of his suggestion. His thoughtfulness touched you. He might actually do it and the adorable monster had to be stopped.

“I’ll be okay, don’t trouble yourself. Thank you, though.”

And sent.

Before you could even properly tuck yourself back under your covers, your phone was already vibrating.

“It wouldn’t be trouble. Just let me know if you want it.”

Ah…

How were you supposed to last, in love with your friend as you were? Two overly warm hands gripped your phone tight.

“If it isn’t too much trouble.”

You didn’t want Vanderwood to see you sick, surely it was unattractive. But you wanted to see him far more than you were embarrassed. With a smile and a sigh, your eyes closed and you sunk back into slumber.

Something was dripping down your face. Blood?! You sat up with a start and groaned. No, of course not. Drool.

Wait, how long have you been sleeping?

_Ding dong._

Oh, no! You raced out of bed and to the mirror. No, no, no, was he here? You weren’t ready! You were sick but you couldn’t actually _look_ sick. You rushed to splash water on your face even as you heard your phone start to ring from the bedroom.

You tiptoed to the door and peeked out. There Vanderwod was, phone to his ear with a heavy-duty bag slung over his shoulder. He wasn’t even wearing work clothes. Why? Whatever the reason, you couldn’t just leave him outside. Hiding your face with a hand best you could, you used the other to slowly edge open the door.

“Vandy. Um, sorry, I just woke up.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, no, it wasn’t you. But uh, just come in. I need to put on clothes. I’m sorry.”

Reluctantly, you pulled it open a little wider before turning around completely. This was worse than you thought now that you confirmed your feelings for him. A bitter ache thumped in your chest, your heart’s song loud and hot.

“Hey…”

A gentle hand made your heart sing louder as it captured your shoulder.

“Y-yeah?”

“Turn around.”

“What? N-no! I’m sick, I look awful. Just wait for a mom-”

Was his hand strong, or was it because it was Vanderwood? Unsure, you still followed the hand’s suggestion and followed without resistance as he turned you back towards him.

One looked at his concerned face was all that was needed to feel like putty.

Your eyes went downcast to the floor as his hand left your shoulder and flattened against your forehead.

“You don’t have much of a fever…”

A developing lump in your throat stopped you from responding with anything but a nod.

“Well, I brought beef seaweed soup. Are you hungry?”

He made you miyeok guk? Ah...he really went all out!

“Vanderwood, you bought me expensive meat and took the day off work? I’m not - that can’t be worth it. I said you shouldn’t go through trouble…”

“I was already making it and I already had the day off.”

“H-huh?”

“And of course it’s worth it, you’re sick aren’t you?”

“Vandy…”

He gave a small smile and playfully tugged at your hair.

“Hey!”

“Can’t be that sick, complaining that much.”

Your pout only made him laugh. At least he didn’t make fun of your appearance. You exhaled and smiled back, leading him to your kitchen that you were positive he knew as well as you now. Vanderwood set down the bag in a chair and stretched.

“I’ll get you a bowl, go ahead and sit down.”

He pulled out a seat without waiting for a response and went to the cabinets to fetch utensils.

“Um, okay…Thank you.”

You slowly sat and watched Vanderwood’s back, eyes traveling over his muscular arms that showed through rolled-up sleeves. Specs of something brown and dry stuck to his clothing. What was Vanderwood doing today? Your eyes then roamed over the heavy-duty bag he set down, seeing more specs of brown on the black fabric.

“Hey, Vanderwood?”

“Hm?”

“Have you been painting?”

“Uh...yeah.”

Was that all he was going to say? He returned to your side with a bowl and spoon and you frowned up at him.

“Why?”

“Oh. I’m moving out, and the new bathroom wall needed some work.”

“You’re moving out?!”

Was this a good or bad thing? ‘Congratulations’ was on the tip of your tongue but Vanderwood’s expression didn’t look too pleased about it.

“Is everything alright?”

Vanderwood opened up the bag and brought out a large canteen. He gracefully spun it open and began pouring the still-hot soup in the bowl as he finally answered.

“You know...I’ve been meaning to move out for a while now, but now that I’m finally doing it, I don’t feel as happy as I thought I would. It’s weird, but nothing is wrong.”

He let out a self-deprecating laugh and closed the canteen back.

“Oh...missing them already?”

Vanderwood scoffed, a frown on his face but red on his cheeks.

“No. Of course not!”

You grinned and began spinning your spoon in the bowl, studying his face that wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Nothing wrong with missing them...I’m sure they’ll let you visit whenever you w-”

“Absolutely not. Are you even listening to me?”

“So defensive…”

“You’re messing with me,” groaned Vanderwood.

You giggled and covered your mouth when it turned into a cough.

“H-hey. Just eat your soup,” he muttered. Vanderwood leaned against the wall and folded his arms, finally meeting your gaze.

This comfort, this peace, this familiarity…

“Hey, Vanderwood?”

“Hm?”

“I just wanted to say thank you for everything you do for me. I mean it.”

His folded arms seemed to tighten against his chest as he continued to look back.

“Um...well, yeah. That’s what friends do. Or maybe boyfriends. Like, fake ones, of course.”

You chuckled at his awkward joke, although being reminded of reality hurt a little more than he probably intended.

“Yeah, I know…”

Holding back a disappointed sigh, you raised your spoon to your lips and took a sip.

“Ah…”

Delicious as always. Vanderwood really took care of you. He always put effort into anything he gave you. And all you had to give him were your potentially friendship-ending feelings. How would he feel if he knew you crushed on him since the beginning? If he knew the dates were all an excuse? Guilt tightened your throat. God, you were the worst friend ever. Would he feel cheated? Was it really all a lie?

“MC? Is the soup alright? It’s not spicy, is it?”

He left the wall for your side. You dropped the spoon and hurriedly wiped at your eyes.

“Yeah, it’s great. It’s p-perfect, Vander…”

His thumb brushed gently against your lower eyelashes and you gulped. No, no, how awkward…

“Hey...if something was wrong, you’d tell me, right?”

His second thumb brushed against your second eye, catching stray drops you didn’t dare call tears.

Would you? It’d feel wrong to say yes. You’d be lying.

“Mm…”

“Well, whatever you’re comfortable with,” he murmured with a smile. “You know…”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t look awful, even when you’re sick.”

“Oh…”

Vanderwood...didn’t he understand how he could give a girl the wrong idea? Exasperated, you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, right. Next, you’ll kiss my forehead and tell me you’ll always take care of me. Are you reading magazines?”

“Hmm…”

Vanderwood hesitated for a moment, searching your eyes before brushing his lips against your temple and then quickly backing away.

“It’s not like I seek them out or anything.”

The lingering warmth of his lips was spreading down your entire body. Did he actually do that, just to joke around with you? How...how cruel! Even though the warmth flooded your senses, reassuring you he cared, it was still cruel.

“I will take care of you though, as long as you’ll let me. Is that wrong?”

“U-uhm!”

Vanderwood rubbed at his neck. “Sorry...did I go too far?”

“No!”

“When you yell like that I can’t tell if you’re upset or just loud.”

“I’m not upset! Oops!”

You nearly bit your tongue to stop yourself from yelling anymore.

“So...it’s okay?”

“Of course. Friends - uh - kiss friends like that sometimes.”

Not _your_ friends, not anyone _you_ knew here, you were talking out of your ass!

“Oh. Is that so…”

Vanderwood’s confused-sounding response was at odds with his rigid posture. But more importantly, did you just give Vanderwood permission to kiss your forehead? Platonically? Oh hell, you were putting _yourself_ deep in the friend zone at this point. What was your _problem_?

This subject needed to end fast. “So - your apartment. Where did you move to?”

“Huh? Oh...by that new park we went to. The building is still new and it’s the same distance from the bakery as before…”

“Oh, wow! So you’re even closer to me now.”

“Ah ha...what a, uh, coincidence.”

“I remember when they first had signs out for them. I’ve always wanted to see those cute little kitchens they have.”

“You’re always welcome.”

“Always?”

“Yup.”

“Then we can go right now?”

Vanderwood sputtered. “H-huh? You’re sick, you shouldn’t-”

“I’m well enough to walk! I really need some fresh air.”

The more you said the idea aloud, the more it felt right. Why not? Vanderwood’s own apartment...you two really would be alone together if you had baking dates there.

“Mm...well, I did say always,” he said.

“Yay!”

“But not long. You still need rest. I drove here so it shouldn’t be too bad, I guess.”

“Sure thing. Thank you, Vandy.”

“Nm.”

“You’re not getting sick too, are you? Your cheeks are a little red.”

“They’re not.”

“But-”

“Your soup is getting cold.”

“Ah!”

“You know...you have a really nice car.”

“Thanks.”

It’d be rude to pry, but you had still hoped Vanderwood would elaborate on the literal sports car he drove. Did he get really lucky? Did he save a millionaire’s life? Did his previous job in cybersecurity really pay that well? Vanderwood did always have nice clothes, but he seemed to live modestly. It was just another mystery of the man.

“What are you smiling to yourself about?”

“Oh. Haha, nothing.”

“Hm...okay...well, we’re here. Wait there, I’ll open the door for you.”

You stifled another laugh. Vanderwood was treating you like some sort of delicate flower today. Was it really because of a small cold?

You looked in the side mirror, gazing at the green of the park in the distance. Maybe the two of you would take frequent walks there together now.

“I live on the third floor, but the elevator is broken.”

“Oh, okay.”

He offered his hand and you grinned as you let him assist you out of the car.

“Alright.”

Vanderwood bent down in front of you, facing away. “Ready.”

“Uh, Vandy?”

“Go ahead, get on. I’ll carry you.”

...Huh?

“V-Vanderwood, I can walk up three flights of stairs.”

“You don’t need to strain yourself, it’s fine.”

“I am _not_ getting on your b-back.”

“Why? I can do it.”

“I know that!”

Vanderwood finally stood up and held his hands to his hips. “Then why?”

Because it’s embarrassing! The only thing more humiliating you could think of was him being your _fake boyfriend_ while you had feelings for him!

“I-I’m not a kid.”

“Trust me, I don’t - I mean, then, at least let me help you.”

Vanderwood held out his arm and you begrudgingly took it. It’s not like you didn’t want to, but the mortification of being given a piggyback ride over a minor cold like a toddler still weighed heavy on you.

“Um, let me just check something while we walk…”

With his free hand, he took his phone out of his pocket and speed-dialed a number. As the two of you ascended, Vanderwood gave up and put the phone away.

“They didn’t answer?”

“Oh, was just making sure Saeyoung or someone wasn’t over at the moment. They’ve been helping me.”

“Oh, of course. How nice of them.”

“Yeah, I guess so…”

His small smile didn’t go unnoticed.

“This is it.”

His arm didn’t leave yours and you didn’t mind. Vanderwood stood hesitantly in front of the door for a second before tilting his head and meeting your eyes.

“So...MC?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever done a...house warming?”

“Yeah, I have. Are you thinking of having one?”

“Not necessarily.”

He trailed off and you waited eagerly. A house party so you could see everyone again! That’d be so fun! You’d love to meet Vanderwood’s other friends...which he definitely didn’t have. Huh. Maybe Saeyoung’s and MC2’s? They seemed sociable and they mentioned something about charity parties.

“Well, I was just thinking maybe it could just be the two of us. I don’t really want a whole affair, but maybe it’d be fun to have, you know, a woman’s touch as I set up or something…”

You nodded and Vanderwood smiled, taking out his card key and holding it to the electronic pad.

“That does sound fun, actually. Though if you wanted a date you could’ve just asked,” you teased.

Vanderwood gently pushed the door open then paused.

“Oh...well, do you want to go on-”

“Congratulations!”

Party strings, favors, and the ear-grating sound of horns made you jump as soon as you entered the door. Vanderwood’s arm tightened around yours, but otherwise, he didn’t move.

It was hard to understand the scene before you – Saeyoung, posed on the couch like a swimsuit model dressed in a red speedo while MC2, in a matching red bikini, cheerily attempted to hula hoop a duck-themed pool float around her waist.

Neither outfits were modest, but that didn’t concern you as much as it being autumn outside.

Saeyoung sat up with a grin on his face. “Well, congratulations on the apartment but now also, congratulations on consummating your relationship!”

MC2 echoed the sentiment by blowing her party horn once more. _Excuse you_?! Didn’t the two of you already explain this to them? Why were they hiding out in Vanderwood’s apartment? Why were they dressed like this? How did they know you were coming at all?

“Now, now, I know you’re impressed by my dear’s hula hooping ability but I still expect something more than the shock on your face.”

A new voice yawned from behind a door. “Why are you blowing the horns? I thought – gah!”

What madness was this?

A second Saeyoung with white hair left the bathroom, still trying to adjust his red one-piece.

Maybe you were sicker than you thought. You felt your knees starting to wobble.

The front door closed and Vanderwood slowly stepped forward. “You…”

Saeyoung’s grin remained, even as he dashed to hide behind his wife.

“... _pervert_! You watched us on a CCTV!”

“What?”

But you didn’t have such a thing in your house!

MC2 gave you an apologetic smile. A chill crept through your arms and up your spine.

"We didn't mean to."

" _We_?"

You tugged on Vanderwood's hand for his attention. "I don't have a security camera in my house, Vandy. It's fine."

“Eh? Of course you do,” Saeyoung laughed. “Didn’t he-“

“Saeyoung. Stop.”

Your eyes slowly raised to meet Vanderwood’s. A dark edge to his voice was unfamiliar – and it scared you. He was actually upset. You thought you knew how he sounded when he was but you’d been wrong. The man next to you felt cold.

The smiles left the faces of the duo while the second Saeyoung slowly slipped back into the bathroom and closed the door.

Silence slipped like a slow knife over the air and you felt its edge. Maybe Saeyoung was joking about a sensitive topic. You vaguely remembered how he acted about the security footage in his bakery.

“You’re really not together?” Saeyoung finally asked, all humor gone from his tone.

“No,” Vanderwood answered swiftly. “Hence, certain topics are not to be brought up.”

They stared at each other for what felt like minutes before Saeyoung’s eyes found yours. An apologetic smile graced his lips.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Yes, we’re sorry,” MC2 joined in, a similar smile on her.

“Oh – yeah, it’s fine. So…swimsuits?”

“Yes, we decided to do a surprise literal house warming party! Summer theme!”

And then they were laughing again as though nothing had just happened. It was a contagious excitement that would’ve swept you along had you not been grounded by a quiet Vanderwood at your side.

You wanted to reassure him but it was impossible with the rowdy company who showed you the various ‘summer’ themed dishes they brought which were mostly just random cold foods and cold versions of foods that should not ever be served chilled. It was bizarre, and perhaps that was the point.

“Oh!”

You’d almost forgotten.

“Uh – the other man?”

Saeyoung suddenly laughed. “Oh, sorry! That was Saeran, he’s my little brother. He’s shy, hold on I’ll get him!”

“You don’t have t-“

And gone. You briefly watched Saeyoung as he skipped off to the bathroom and knocked, talking to his brother beyond the door.

What a handful those two must be.

“Alright, we should work on your bedroom next,” MC2 suggested, a frozen banana hanging between her lips.

“Off limits,” Vanderwood muttered, half-glaring and half-intrigued at a cold noodle dish that vaguely smelled of pizza.

“No fair,” she sighed. “Well, you left your white paint stuff in there. Can you go get it?”

“Uh huh.”

You and MC2 exchanged looks and then smiles at the very preoccupied Vanderwood.

“I’ll go get it,” you offered.

“Okay…”

The two of you giggled quietly before you left off to find his bedroom, following the smell of paint. Oh, this must be it.

It was still mostly bare, only the bed properly set up. But there it was, sitting by the door, a closed paint bucket and a brush sitting on top. Ah, he must’ve been touching up parts of the wall. You could still see the telltale signs of half-dried paint, barely visible around the room.

What a handyman. Great fake boyfriend material.

You reached down for the paint bucket but paused, seeing something sticking out from under the bed. Did he lose something already? Maybe the bed wasn’t properly set up after all.

You scooted forward and reached under, trying to find the shiny object that had caught your eye. Oh…steel? And bulky?

Huh. You didn’t want to collapse the bed on your hand. With a sigh, you bent down to the floor for a better look.

A barrel faced you.

You’d never touched one in person, you’d never felt one, you’d never been close to a real one, but this…this looked like a real gun. But guns were illegal so it couldn’t be real, right? It all had to be some sort of strange replica hobby he’d never told you about.

You shakily took out your phone, peeking behind you at the ajar door, then quickly turning the flashlight on. Back on your knees, you tried again.

The light illuminated something far worse than a real gun. Black, silver, gray, and even green guns – various sizes, various shapes, were all strapped under the bed. The one that was loose, the black one nearest you, pointed straight out towards your head. A swallowing abyss led your eye down the barrel – the barrel with ridges, a barrel that looked incredibly realistic and incredibly…used.

What was going on? The echo of Saeyoung joking about secret agents came to the forefront of your mind. Vanderwood knowing so much military strategy and martial arts came to mind. The incredible lack of social media presence for Vanderwood and his ‘family’ came to mind. The joke about watching you on a CCTV not even an hour ago came to mind.

Panic shot through you. This wasn’t real – none of it. There had to be an explanation. They were all just jokes, right? Even these guns were jokes, right? It wasn’t real, that’d be – that’d be crazy!

“MC.”

Your whispered shriek sent you hacking on Vanderwood’s bedroom floor.

You whirled around to see Vanderwood in the doorway. His wide eyes took you in, sitting on the floor next to his bed with your flashlight still on.

“Did you see them?”

There wasn’t anywhere to run, not with him in the way. Would you really run from Vanderwood? Would he ever actually hurt you? Was he capable?

Vanderwood sighed and slowly closed the bedroom door behind him.

“Look…I’m going to sit over here. I promise.”

He frowned and made his way far away from you to the corner of his room before sitting down.

“I want to explain, but if you want to leave…you can.”

Tears pricked your eyes.

“No…”

“You don’t want me to explain?”

“No. No, I don’t w-want…”

You didn’t want to _leave_. Of course Vanderwood would never hurt you. Shame heated your face for even considering it at all. From the corner of your eye, you could see his hand extend toward you then quickly pull back. He wasn’t going to move like he promised…but that didn’t mean you couldn’t.

You took a deep breath and stood up.

“Why do you have those…things, Vandy?”

Your legs carried you – more confident with each step – until you were in front of Vanderwood, and then sitting and facing him.

“I had to do dangerous things at my old job.”

“Things with guns?”

He didn’t lower his gaze even though something in his eyes wavered. “Yes.”

“Is that why…you have so many cameras in your bakery?”

“Yes.”

“And so…Saeyoung-“

“-was telling the truth.”

It didn’t scare you for some reason. If anything, it explained why he got so upset about _Dames Bond_ inaccuracies. Maybe it was because of who it was. Any real fear you had melted away as you took his hand in yours, remembering all the ways it’d touched and comforted you. No one that gentle with you could ever hurt you. _Vanderwood_ could never hurt you.

“Alright,” you exhaled, forcing a smile.

“You’re scared of me.”

His hand didn’t hold yours back, nearly lifeless, the warmth of it fading away along with the light in his eyes.

“A little,” you whispered honestly, “but I’m more afraid of losing my friend.”

Hesitantly, you leaned forward. Maybe it was all an excuse even then. But there was only one thing you could think of to reassure him, something warm to share between close friends.

You kissed his forehead and smiled.

And miraculously, Vanderwood smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I literally switched chapters 10 and 11 and went in a completely different direction. This chapter is a surprise to everyone including the Vandershine and including me jaoidssja.
> 
> It's coming to a close y'all (ಥ⌣ಥ) bittersweet! Sorry I've been a bit off-schedule, I mentioned on Twitter but I really have just been so busy and hardly on the computer at all (in addition to me just hating these last 2 chapters in general oof so much rewriting);;
> 
> As always, I appreciate and read all your comments and I'm sorry I haven't been replying lately. But if there was a kudos button for comments you'd definitely all know how much I love them! Thank you for sticking throughhhhhhh (◕‿◕✿)(◕‿◕✿)(◕‿◕✿)


	11. Food Fight / Vanilla Meringue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood and MC share a few more secrets.

“You know, if you’re early you can still knock.”

Vanderwood flinched and spun around.

You weren’t properly dressed, holding together a light robe that fought the unusual early morning wind with a mismatched t-shirt and lounge shorts underneath. Vanderwood had seen you in casual wear before on movie dates, but never like this.

With no preparation, you still stood as the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

“I – uh, sorry. I didn’t want to be rude.”

There was no response. Your feet were stiff as you continued to stare at him sitting on the park bench.

This is what he was really afraid of. You said you accepted him despite his past – easily, in comparison to what it could’ve been. But that couldn’t be right. It was all _too_ easy. Perhaps you were finally coming to your senses. He was dangerous and no amount of cookies was going to change that. Vanderwood felt his stomach drop as he waited for the inevitable.

“You don’t have to be scared of me, Vandy. I won’t tell.”

Wait…scared of _you_? Didn’t you have this backward?

“Hah…you look confused. Come in, don’t stay out here and catch a cold, silly.”

Your hand didn’t hesitate to find his arm, gently pulling him up and then around the bench. Vanderwood quickly stared at the ground as the wind whipped your robe around your legs and he let himself, bags of baking ingredients in hand, be led toward your door.

Inside, you didn’t let go even as the door shut behind you. Your hands tightened around him and he forced himself to meet your gaze again.

“I don’t want us to change. I don’t really understand everything about who you were before, but I like the person you are now. So you don’t have to be scared. We’re friends.”

Friends…

“Thank you.”

He muttered the words but you still smiled, letting him go and fast walking to your bedroom. “I’ll get dressed for baking, go ahead and set up! I’ll be right back!”

The door shut and he groaned. He…he wanted to kiss your forehead again! Ah! He couldn’t do that – but he could, you said close friends do that sometimes and you gave him permission – no, no, it’d be so obvious – what if he only did it once in a while – but he wanted to do it every time he saw you, what was considered ‘once in a while’ – would every day really be so bad if you were okay with it, you practically held his hand half of the time – but that was different, was it as intimate – what even _was_ intimacy – what even was love – could he ever separate his toxic cultural misconceptions of intimacy to value you as a person conceptually separate from his romantic attraction?!

Enough! No more thinking. Thinking was a bad idea.

Vanderwood huffed and stomped to the kitchen, haphazardly taking everything out of his bags and sprawling it across the counter. So what if you never returned his feelings! Wasn’t friendship enough? Wasn’t this already more than he ever imagined?

…What if you did return his feelings? Would that be fine? What would he even do about that?

Gah! No, no, no thinking. If he wasn’t an interest of yours before he definitely had squashed it now that you knew the truth – and only part of the truth. If you really knew how much of a monster he was, you’d feel sick being around him.

“Ooh, you brought so much this time! It was a good idea to do an all-day baking extravaganza!”

He didn’t dare turn around. Vanderwood wasn’t even sure what he was looking at – there were piles of ingredients, so much that he could probably make anything from his bakery’s menu.

“Let me add mine, too.”

He pretended not to watch you as you walked around the kitchen, pulling things out of your cabinets and dropping them on your counters. Oh yeah, definitely enough to make anything you wanted.  
  
“New aprons for us, too!”

Two, matching aprons with dog print on them were pulled out from under the kitchen sink. Why there?

“This one is for you,” you hummed, pushing the brown apron with a leopard-striped puppy into this hands.

“And this one is for me.” You began to don a black and slightly smaller apron with a zebra-striped big dog.

“You didn’t need to buy me one, I brought mine…”

Your hand struggled to tie the long straps and he instinctually reached for it.

“Here, let me…”

“O-oh, thanks…”

He began to tie a big ribbon, just as he was taught by Jaehee Kang, who still occasionally stopped by the bakery to discuss business and assist him.

“Um, I just thought they were cute…You’re over here so much, I figured it’d be convenient to have one ready for you so you don’t need to carry yours back-and-forth.”

“Oh…”

As he tightened the ribbon, he gulped. How thoughtful. Did this mean you wanted him around…longer?

“Thank you, MC.”

“Yes…um? Are you done?”

Gack. His hand was practically sitting on your waist as his thoughts wandered. Vanderwood felt like he pounced away as he cleared his throat and mindlessly inspected the kitchen.

“So…anything in mind for today? I was thinking a spin on vanilla-and-chocolate chip cookies. Also adding a vanilla meringue.”

“That sounds delicious. Um, I also…want to make fortune cookies.”

Vanderwood blinked. “Oh…I’ve never made those, actually. But alright, sure.”

“Yay! I found a recipe online I liked, but I thought it might taste better with a little more almond extract.”

“Making your own recipes now?”

“Only trying to impress my world-class teacher.”

“Well, whoever they are I hope they don’t replace me.”

“Oh, please.”

He felt you playfully elbow him in the back as you passed, pulling out more bowls to toss down.

“Hey…Vandy? Why baking?”

“Oh...hm. I’m not sure. It was just something to do.”

You cleared a small space and jumped up on the counter, swinging your legs and grinning at him. Not hygienic.

“But how did you get so good then?”

Vanderwood frowned. “Saeyoung.”

“Huh? You baked for him?”

“I did everything for that brat!”

You giggled and he exhaled. It was like cool water splashed over the memory that only seemed to upset him.

“What do you mean? You cleaned a lot for him, but fed him too?”

“Yeah. It’s just, he’s not a very picky eater but that ended up being a bad thing. He would just buy cheap fast food and other garbage, some nights only eating chips, and I’d have to make him eat something sustainable.” Vanderwood grimaced. At least MC2 was around to help him now, although he couldn’t say her habits were exactly ‘good’ either. Who eats cake for breakfast?

“Anyway, he’d complain about healthy food taking too long to eat or something so I ended up baking sweets as a bribe and also adding things like vegetables in them.”

“What, like carrot cake?”

“Like zucchini brownie.”

“Oh! I remember those. You used to have them on the menu a long time ago, whatever happened to them?”

Oh...right.

“Uh - I had a customer keep harassing me about them having zucchini and another who was obsessed with them so I just took it off.”

“W-what? Okay, you have to tell me more than that!”

You were wide-eyed, ready to drink in the old gossip. Vanderwood sighed, trying to remember the incident.

“Yeah, some food blogger kept trying to tank the reviews online of the bakery-”

“Wow, that’s really unprofessional!”

“-so I sent a bunch of bots to crash his website until he couldn’t afford the bandwidth and closed down.”

“...Vanderwood!”

He couldn’t help but laugh at your astonishment. He’d done worse and surely you knew it.

“I’m just kidding, sort of.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Uh huh. Now, what about the obsessed one? What, was the person yelling at your workers when you ran out?”

“She was actually stealing from other customers. But the police caught her.”

“Oh, wow...so why stop serving them then?”

“Well, she got out of jail-”

“Oh my God!”

“Just kidding.”

He laughed again and stared at your crinkled face. Never had he been so thankful. After everything, you were still here and you were both still smiling together. It was a miracle.

“You know...I have a secret to tell you, too.”

“Oh?”

Another miracle. He didn’t even feel nervous. No impossible, life-threatening scenarios came to mind, not even with that knife drawer behind you.

“Um - you know that first time we talked? That first time I came during closing?”

It was hard to forget. The cute woman who came daily showed up as he was putting on his coat to leave. The last light was dim and it was clearly closed. Yet -

You stood there, a determined glint in your eyes that was mismatched by the too-big coat you were mostly hiding under. On any other day he’d have ignored you, but that day you looked into each other’s eyes for the first time.

So he finished putting the coat on and went to the door.

“Yes?”

“Hello, Mr. Vanderwood, sorry to bother you. My work schedule changed and I - uh - was just wondering what was the latest time I could buy something to go.”

He was going to say 20 minutes until closing. It was supposed to be 20 minutes until closing.

But he didn’t.

“Just be here before closing.”

“Oh! Really? Thanks. Goodnight.”

You’d smiled at him - he wasn’t sure how he knew, your lips were mostly covered. Maybe it was your eyes? For a moment, he thought you even seemed friendly. They glowed and they saw him. He didn’t feel like he was looking at a customer or stranger, but...another person, who saw him as a person, too.

“Goodnight.”

Weird, Vanderwood recalled. His heart had never really stopped hammering since then.

“Yeah, I remember. Your work schedule had just changed. What about it?”

“Um. I came late on purpose. I wanted to ask you directly and I thought you’d be alone if I came during closing.”

“H-huh? Directly, why?”

You hummed and stretched, lazily circling a finger across the kitchen counter. Not hygienic. “I wanted to tell you I really liked your bread...but I got nervous.”

“Well, I knew that. You were in there every day.”

“..Yeah, I suppose.”

You frowned and looked up thoughtfully to the ceiling. What a strange reaction. Did you want to tell him something else? Oh!

“I have a secret about that day, too.”

“Hm?”

“The bakery actually does last order, um, 20 minutes before closing…”

Your eyes widened and you jumped up with a thump. “Huh? What? But I always-”

“Yeah. I don’t know, I guess I felt bad and made an exception for you.”

“Vandy...you’re so nice…”

He chuckled. “You really are the only one who says that.”

“But it’s true. You’ve always been so nice and thoughtful to me - everyone at work can see it, they’re so jealous of us. If you were my real boyfriend, I’d-oh!”

“You’d...what?”

This was just the club all over again. His throat felt dry. When was the last time he drank water today? Yeah. Water, that’s all he needed.

“Nothing. Sorry, that was a weird thing to say, huh?”

Oh no, he was making it awkward.

“Oh - no, not at all.”

“...Really?”

“O-of course not. I mean, I’ve thought about it, too. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“...It doesn’t?”

Vanderwood bit his tongue. Where was he going with this? He was making it even more awkward. Why was he so bad at this?

“Well - actually, I’m really thirsty-”

“Oh, sorry! I’ll get some water.”

He silently exhaled as you hopped down and headed toward your refrigerator. Just another fake date, just another day. Despite things being different, despite you knowing things about him he would’ve been forced to kill you for in the past, everything was still the same.

So why did he feel...disappointed?

You quickly poured two glasses of water and he sipped it, observing the busy-looking kitchen in the brief moment of mutual silence. It hadn’t taken long for the combination of ingredients to be sprawled across every kitchen surface. Extras from the bakery, some of his goods from home, and your personal favorites sat ready to be baked. The sheer amount of options would be overwhelming if this is how the two of you had first started your ‘dates.’

Your own glass was sipped as you made your way back to the counter surface you sat on.

“You really shouldn’t be sitting on there – it can’t be good for the food or your clothes.”

Another grin.

And you were sitting again. Vanderwood sighed. Were you trying to get a rise out of him? It’d never work. Vanderwood played off indifference.

Fortune cookies, unlike chocolate cookies, were about execution rather than complex ingredients. The two of you separated the work while he kept a watchful eye over you. Though, it wasn’t so much what you were mixing as much as your concentrated expressions. A beautiful face, such a…kissable…forehead…Nearly an hour passed – of which he wasn’t sure he did anything but make a mess and pretend to be working – before you called for a break.

“This is a nice morning. It’s gonna be a great day. Maybe we can even go out tonight. I really liked that bar we both went to.”

“Mm.”

_Sip._ No, no, no, can’t go back there. Can’t go back to the place he nearly wanted to propose to you at in your drunken stupor.

You never asked about how he found you in that underground bar. In fact, you’d been nothing but grateful for the ride home. How? Why? Weren’t you at least a little suspicious of him? Especially after everything he told you?

The fact that you weren’t put _him_ on edge like at any moment you’d change your number and run away or the police would be at his door with weeks of your provided evidence to incriminate him.

Were you secretly packing up to leave this entire time? Did you tell your coworkers how you hadn’t invited him? Was he doomed to his miserable existence without-

“Vandy?”

He finally snapped back to attention as batter was flicked onto his face. Your legs swung off the kitchen counter that you sat on despite his protests about sanitation and back support.

“You’re supposed to be teaching me, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah…”

What were you even making today? It smelled strongly of chocolate. Or was that his? You’d been picking and finding recipes for him to experiment on lately. A lot of the times like today you even had your own ideas and suggestions. He was supposed to be proud, but irrationally he wondered if you’d lose interest in him. If his presence in your kitchen would become unnecessary. If these instructional dates really would become only instructional.

More batter flicked on his face and he scowled.

“Hey!”

“What are you thinking about, you’re really quiet. Like, more quiet than usual,” you frowned, the batter still on your finger, positioned to flick again despite the concern in your voice.

“Get off the counter and maybe I’ll talk,” he huffed.

Flicked.

“No thanks, _dad_.”

“Alright, _brat_.”

His finger scratched into the bowl nearest him, scooping yellow onto his finger and flicking it at your leg.

“Ew, gross!”

“And batter on my face isn’t?”

“Nope!”

He dodged your latest attempt that was more of a small handful and less of a flick.

“You’re making a _mess_!”

Why were you behaving like this? He blinked, exasperated, as your hand hurriedly grabbed an even bigger handful and then ducked behind the counter.

“And you’re not talking to me.”

Vanderwood slowly stood up. “Look, I-”

Batter splashed into his face and he gasped, hands quickly wiping it off and knowing it was in his hair.

“Oops! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-eek!”

Two handfuls of batter were thrown back into retaliation. Enough games. Vanderwood wouldn’t stand for this assault. Your tactics were juvenile and your aim was subpar! To challenge him to a tag battle would end in your brutal defeat! All who had ever shot at him had been crushed without remorse and without effort!

But he needed more ammo. And so did you. You hopped off the counter and grabbed the flour. An amateur decision. The weight and projectile of flour would require time and effort. Meanwhile - he grabbed the bag of chocolate chips. The small and solid bites would enable him to easily grab handfuls but also opt for a pellet attack of small, annoying hits to wear you down.

“Cease fire,” you warned, a grin on your face and the bag pointed toward him.

“Request denied,” he scoffed back.

Your hands clasped around the bag and squeezed. Puffs of white exploded in the kitchen. How devious! You had no intention of digging out balls of flour. The plan all along was to obscure vision. Unfortunate for you, Vanderwood didn’t need a perfect line-of-sight. More puffs kept shooting towards him in the air as you frantically kept it up.

Pellet attack!

Your movement was too predictable. Easier than a still target, he chuckled. Did you think a simple back-and-forth rhythm could actually throw him off? Everywhere you went the pellets hit. But yuck, it was melting in his hand. Vanderwood made a run for it, throwing a large handful of chocolate chips right before ducking beneath the counter near the floor.

“I know you’re down there,” you called.

If he didn’t know your location before he knew it now. He had no intention of trying to sneak around to you. That’d be too easy. Instead, he reached up a hand and shoved the bowl near him. It clattered and you screamed, then laughed.

It was enough of a distraction for him to silently dash behind you and tickle your sides.

“How did you - no! That’s _cheating_.”

“There’s no cheating in a food war. Only a loser and a winner.”

The bag of flour fell out of your hands and you tried to escape him, wiggling and laughing. But Vanderwood had won and he was collecting his prize - your laughter. One arm wrapped around your waist and brought you back to him so he could continue his assault.

And he couldn’t help but laugh with you at the ridiculousness of it. If Seven could see him right now, what would he think? Something humiliating. But the most shocking thing of all was that Vanderwood...didn’t care.

He didn’t care if anyone at all saw with you. Because he was happy.

“I give, I _give._ ”

Still laughing, he finally relented and spun you back around to face him.

“You know we’re going to have to clean this mess up.”

He lifted and sat you back on the counter.

“Yes - oh!”

Vanderwood inspected the mess of flour and batter that was caked everywhere on you - the apron and under it, your ears and face...this was a huge problem. He wondered if he looked half as bad. Not thinking much about it, he reached a finger across your cheek, gently wiping off batter and bringing it to his mouth.

“Hm...well, it doesn’t taste bad. I wonder what we can salvage.”

“Hey, I want to try some too.”

You said it so expectantly that he raised an eyebrow. A question? Your legs swung to gently hit his own and you leaned forward just slightly, eyes shining and waiting. Oh…

Awkwardly, he leaned in too. You raised a finger to his skin and he waited for you to wipe some of the batter off.

But you never did.

Warm lips just barely touched his cheek, a single second that he couldn’t tell really even happened. You were already pulling away, licking the batter stuck to your lips and eyes cast upwards.

“Hmm...yeah, I like it.”

Your eyes found his again as your tongue slowly licked across your bottom lip, gathering the last of the tiny specks that remained. And he watched the entire thing. Quickly looking away, he sat up straighter. Did you just - no, but? Why was his heart racing like this if you hadn’t? Was it an accident? But you -

“Vandy…”

“Mm?” Words failed him, but his eyes snapped back to you.

Both of your hands timidly found his chest. There was no way you couldn’t hear everything - every frantic flip that was sending blood to his face and the heartbeat that was increasing steadily with every second you lingered against him.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you murmured.

“D-do?”

Your lips pressed together.

“D-do what anymore?” he pressed. Were you finally tired of these baking dates? But he needed you to stay.

“I-is it the mess? I don’t mind cleaning it, I did go a little overboard.”

“No, Vandy...it’s not that. I just...you know, your heart is b-beating really fast?”

“Uh, sorry?”

You took a deep breath and moved one of his hands to your own chest. Way too close to your breasts for comfort.

But...your heart was beating fast too.

“I guess we took the food war pretty seriously.”

You sighed and gently pushed his hand away. “You’re awful.”

“Huh? But you started it!”

“Not _that_!”

“What are you talking about then?” he groaned.

“I’m scared to ruin everything and you don’t even care.”

“We can start over, it’s no big deal, I have plenty of ingredients.”

If your glare could sear into his skull it would.

“What?”

The longest sigh he ever heard was at that moment. You couldn’t even look at him, folding your arms and turning your head entirely. Cute…Even your batter-laden cheek was as kissable as your forehead.

Well, you’d done it, right? So it didn’t count, right? It was fine, right?

He took your delicious-looking left cheek as an invitation, gently brushing his lips against it to scoop some of the batter away.

Oh yeah, this definitely needed some work.

“Oh…”

Your head slowly swiveled back to him as he finished licking his lips.

“Hm?”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times before leaning forward again, brushing your lips once more against his cheek. Did he really have that much batter left on him?

Well, you didn’t either. But…

He returned the favor, lingering longer than he probably needed, feeling how hot your skin was against him.

You leaned forward again, a hint of tongue brushing along his cheek.

Was that really okay, it wasn’t…too far?

There was practically nothing left on your left cheek, but his lips found it again, gentle and hesitant, allowing his tongue a slight delicacy.

Was it alright, that you tasted just as sweet?

He wanted…more.

His hand slid gently over the back of your neck, suggesting you turn your head and you offered no resistance, exposing your right cheek to him.

Vanderwood didn’t – couldn’t – wouldn’t pull away, as one taste became two. What was he even doing? Why? His lips were trembling against your cheek and his tongue was no longer brushing, but even lapping at batter there.

Even when there was nothing, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. You tasted so…good.

Were you shivering, too? That was fine, he could…warm you.

His lips trailed lower, near your jawline before tracing near your ear. It was a sensitive spot, but maybe you didn’t mind?

Or maybe you did. Your hands gripped onto his sleeves, scrunching them in tight fists. An unexplained thrill shot through him at the gesture.

He trailed his lips there again, even more gentle and listened to your breath hitch. If your laughter was like cool water, the beautiful sound you made just now was like a tidal wave.

Vanderwood did it – again and again, feeling like he might drown in the ocean you were making from your raspy breaths.

He finally forced himself away. There was more batter, of course.

His lips didn’t leave your skin, gliding their way across until they stopped near your mouth. He did what he needed, tasting more of the batter the two of you had worked so hard on. Or one? He couldn’t remember what it was, what it even tasted like, why he needed his mouth to clean your face.

His tongue accidentally brushed against a small part of your bottom lip –

And the trance was broken.

W-wha? What was he doing?

He sharply pulled back and met your gaze, an apology ready but failing to come out.

“You…missed some…”

“Oh…sorry…”

Vanderwood’s lips found your cheek again, tongue as careful as possible as it met the corner of your mouth.

“More…”

He switched to the other corner.

“More…”

Your chin.

“More…”

There wasn’t anywhere else but your lips. Soft and beautiful and warm. His hand slowly rested on your chin and lowered it.

“MC…?”

His fingers were trembling.

“Yes…?”

Your voice was trembling.

“Can I…kiss you?”

“Please.”

Vanderwood leaned in.

All was quiet in his mind. All he knew was you – a delicate and heated cushion finally against his own, hurting his heart in a way that weighed his body down, bleeding him out in a way that made his head lighter than air.

And you kissed him back. Your hands went slack against his sleeve and fell away, but he still craved your touch. More. More.

His hands found yours, entwining your fingers together.

“Vandy…”

Even the sound of his name was overwhelming. This wasn’t fair – _you_ weren’t being fair.

Still gripping your hands, he didn’t wait for reason and cupped your cheeks. More. More.

It was a messy kiss - devoid of any tact or thinking and mostly tasting of chocolate, honey, and flour. But it was the best kiss he ever had – the only kiss he genuinely wanted in a decade. You made a small sound of surprise that sent a shiver straight down his spine.

Dammit. Damn, he really liked you.

He didn’t want to breathe or feel anything _but_ you. He let go of your cheeks and hands and instead pulled your hips forward to the very edge of the counter, letting you lean against him as he stood between your legs. Your skin was burning him but he didn’t care. Oxygen wasn’t completely filling his lungs but he didn’t care. Your soft lips were against him and kissing him back and that was all that mattered. Your arms gently wrapped around his shoulders as you haphazardly gasped in cute spurts instead of allowing the kiss to end. If you wanted this half as much as he did, then he could die happy.

Vanderwood hoped and feared that you already knew this, even more so when your name slipped from his lips like a desperate plea.

“MC…”

“Vanderwood,” you choked out. Slowly, pressing a few more light and bittersweet kisses to your lips, he finally pulled away.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. The shine in your downcast eyes looked like tears.

“No, no, I just...I’m really happy. I thought you - I don’t know why I’m - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin it.”

He ran his thumbs over your cheeks, tilting your head and making you look him in the eye.

“If you’re happy, then it’s impossible for anything to be ruined.”

You chuckled and a single tear fell which Vanderwood flicked away, smiling. Your content sigh and the way your cheek rested heavier, relaxed, in his palm made his heart sing. How did someone like him even get here? How was he supposed to be honest with you? He’d told so many lies, so many half-truths, and his whole past was riddled with figurative and literal holes.

“I really like you, Vanderwood,” you whispered.

Oh, like that. The sincere and simple words you spoke melted the last of his reservations. Vanderwood wasn’t used to taking risks, he’d been trained against them. But even he knew that some things were worth it, even if it scared him.

“I really like you, too. I like you so much it hurts.”

This was embarrassing. But he couldn’t stop himself. “I like you so – I want, I would like it if – is it fine if we just…uh – MC!”

“What are you trying to say, Vandy?”

You were giggling again. That didn’t really help his nerves.

“I want to go on real dates with you. I want to be able to kiss you again and hold your hand all the time. I want you to keep smiling, I want to keep giving you bread at work and having dinner with you and dancing with you. I want - I don’t want to be…”

That was it. In the end, it was so clear what he really wanted.

“I don’t want it all to be fake.”

“Was it really all fake for you?”

“MC...” He met your smile with his own, bringing one of your precious fingers to his lips to kiss a promise to it. “No. None of it.”

The looks, the feelings, the priceless time spent…no, it was real.

Funny.

The one thing that was supposed to be a lie in his new life was the most honest he’d ever been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL...we've reached the end! If you made it here, thank you so much for sticking through, I hope you enjoyed the journey of these two absolutely _obtuse_ goofballs (or should I say, you?). This was just an old project I decided to breathe some life in, but I really do love bakery AUs and always wanted something soft for Vanderwood post-Seven route. He really has had it rough! And if you saw him in V's after ending, YEESH he REALLY had it rough!!!! He deserves to run a cute little bakery and find a cute S.O.!!! GIVE ME THE ROUTE, CHERITZ (please).
> 
> I really struggled ending this, nothing ever felt right and it felt wrong to have it end at all (WOW a little TOO DEEP in the bread are WE? ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿), but in the end I decided to let the characters mostly do what they wanted and hit END SCENE, otherwise it'd be 200k words in, no kiss, and torches at my doorstep. Originally, Vanderwood and MC kissed in chapter 10 and then Seven and Six throw them the party to celebrate. Instead, I just...ruined the party. Completely. I actually wanted to add two bonus chapters completely new from the original story the Vandershriners came up with - a chapter of Vanderwood and Jaehee's relationship, and a one-shot separate from this of...a higher rating. This kiss scene was actually rewritten THREE times, can you believe it? I ended up going back to my roots and saying "Yeah, what's something completely self-indulgent? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)" and bam, here we are. No one asked for any of this information of course, but I'm throwing it out there anyway. The big WHAT IF!
> 
> Haha, well, thanks again for taking the time to read. Your words of encouragement and love of Vanderwood gave and continue to give me life. I'll treasure them always and I'll see you on the flip side!
> 
> Twitter: @lokiiwood


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